Monday, March 29, 2010
Where’s Sorority Girl?
Somewhere in this lineup of fresh squeezed, taint filtered juicedouche, I’ve carefully hidden one, maybe two, Sorority Girls.
Look closely.
Can you see their fathers weeping and rending their garments and cursing Ganesh?
Nope. All I see is a wall of white, dense, blinding fog.
From the pilot episode of…
MTV® Spring Break 2010: Guess Your Daddy
…starring nine Jersey-trash bags and one giant whobag: your mom!
I can see, I can see! It's a miracle! Oh, wait, I can see. Ok, two chicks, can't tell if they are hot or not. But the boys are out of control and by that I mean they should all be sent to Gitmo.
I once had swallowed an opal, & had to dig through my crap for a couple of days to find it… this experience is oddly similar
Re: image problems
It's not an attack on HCwDB, just more evidence Blogger nuzzles rhesus monkey butthole, as it's a systemic blogger meltdown.
Yet more evidence why the WordPress move was necessary.
– management
Eeek. Can you bring back the fog?
How'd all that mud get on the dude in front? It's not mud?
Nevermind
Why is my huge cocck all white and stuff?
This picture reminds me of the time when I was but a little HoneyDouche and I had a bowel of Fruit Loops and a 104 degree fever. Hallucinations were followed by Linda Blair-esque type projectile vomiting lots and lots of pretty colors.
Who wants to take it in the butt? Raise your hand!
Lord, I've never seen a POINTY Cheesehead like her with an itsy-bitsy little animus standing on her shoulder, scratching his own head and wondering, "What's that herd of Indian elephants doin' comin' at us?"
There's two hotts (we'll assume they're hotts, hard to tell being obscured by that much porch beef), and a… what's the plural pronoun for douchebags? Scroteload? I think I'll go with that… and a scroteload of fratbag choads who are secretly thinking to themselves, "Who let the smelly GIRLS in here?"
This is far and away the best visual explanation for why the white-dressed poet Emily Dickinson virtually locked herself in her home till she died from over-hyphenating her own poems.
Wifebeater brand Porch Beef and Heinekens, my fave brats and brau…and a couple of hidden bras, and not a few Broheims to boot.
The pastel cannon misfired and left its human cannonball standing in surprise on a Cheesehead's shoulder, muttering, "We're not in Wisconsin any more!"
Ahhh, smell the herpes. The eye herpes, that is.
He's holding the UCC for you Mr. White.
till she died from over-hyphenating her own poems
Classic
Looks like Red Tank Douche is close to getting a public reach around from his favorite bro and front and center is wondering what that warm sticky stuff is running down his back. favorite bro has some splainin to do
Sorry, I'm not willing to go digging through a barrel of shit to find a penny, or whatever her name is.
Kevin Costner crouched down in the front of the group, looked about warily, and hoped no one recognized him. His agent stood behind the cameraman and hissed, "Serves ya right for making 'The Postman'!"
@ honey-douche
a bowel of fruit loops? … I knew I was eatin' em wrong
marni, poses, victorious, with her ten bag man-sled, after winning the ihidarod world pegging championship.
The greasy avalanche of scrote has overwhelmed any chance of finding the hotts in this pic.
Meanwhile in the background the extreme torture of SpongeBob SquarePants continued.
this is like trying to find your favorite disposable plastic fork from the Pacific Garbage Patch.
and if you have a favorite disposable plastic fork, there's probably something wrong with you.
i got nothing, all i can see is choad, taint, and poo, maybe i need a better screen?
I think I spotted them both. One seems to be a tranny hooker, tho. The other? probably not worth saving from the crush of choad.
I see her, she's in a blue tank top, right?