Send in the Clownbags
It’s rare when the impressionist art movement and the Grieco Virus collide in one disturbing HCwD pic. But here’s the thing, kids. Those tight biker/painter caps were acceptable in 1992. Actually they weren’t even cool then. Add on what appears to be slices of pizza on this scrote’s hat, and you go from ‘bag to clown in 4.2 seconds. Like an Audi.
I don’t know who’s hand is where. I don’t even know if the performative nature of the lost Backstreet Boy constitutes douchebaggery, or just explains the violent kicking motion in my right leg. Then again, that could be from a few too many Choco Tacos last night.
For those who haven’t experienced the layered chocolate genius of the Choco Taco, picture the icecream equivalent of Jewel Hottie from the previous pic. Damn, they were tasty.
Unlike these clowns. Who are spew. And not even premium spew. I’m talking the type that sells for .99 cents in block cartons in the back of the freezer next to the bags of ice. Those generic slabs of ice milk that haven’t moved since the Dove Bar ice-cream realignment of the late 1980s.
