Saturday, September 8, 2007
Champagne Superdouchebag V
Ah, old friend Champagne Superdouchebag. How I missed your choady Trustfundian ways.
Your consistency of stubble is belied only by that snazzy white belt buckle and douched up NASCAR jacket.
Your ability to shuffle the hotties like a deck of boobie cards invokes the closeup trickery of the great Ricky Jay.
I would dress as a surgeon and rub Tantric African tribal oils on your bright eyed hottie’s upper elbow area until she hit me in the head with a candlestick.
