Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Pouter Puff and Eliza
I’m not sure how much of a ‘bag The Pouter Puff really is.
Sure he’s got that whole “Punk by way of a sale at J.C. Penny” thing going, which is solidly mockworthy. And, of course, the Hitler Chin.
But what’s with the t-shirt of Baby Scarface? Meh, whatever. Here’s your stage-1 and take off, P.P.
Now lets get to the real reason for the post. Glorious Real World Eliza Dushku. I would sympathize with her failing acting career over lattes on Larchmont, while secretly fondling her pocketbook strap with strange tugging motions.
Speaking of strange tugging motions … .
I dunno about this P.P. fella. He’s got pink hands, and he doesn’t smile when a pic is being taken of him in the physical presence of a hott. And I’d bet anyone with five to one odds that underneath that faux leather jacket is a tribal tatt, signifying his membership in some tribe he’s never heard of. Nah, DB1, you’re too kind on this putz.
yeah what boss said…+ I would lick the grease dribblings from a slice of Village Pizza off her scrumptuous tummy
Pouter Puff has a Dexter vibe going for him. The chick has a “you can dry hump me” on the first date vibe going for her. Maybe that would explain PP’s vibe. Blue Balls
Does that guy have blood on his hands? His hands look mangled and I would not appreciate being pawed by him. Dang he’s intense, like camping. He’s a psycho/hipsterbag. I think he might have killed a guy with his fold up bike.
He’s playing it so cool he gave himself frostbite of the hands.
.
If it were me, I’d be lying on the floor, desperately grasping her delicate ankle while sobbing and blubbering out my undying love for her while she attempts to limp off to safety and her body guards kick me repeatedly in the nuts.
What, am I going to have to be the one to say it? Fine then…
.
“Say hello to my little friend.”
Looks like he had his hands in the iced beer tub way too long trying to fish out that frosty PBR at the bottom. Would also explain the pissy look on his face.
He reminds me of Justin Bieber…Beiber…whatever.
Pretty sure that’s a good initial mock.
‘What do you mean, “Sorry, we’re out of red pistachios”?
Car keys
auto-douche.
Christian Bayle sure can pull some nice tail.
Weird midget lady from Poltergeist on the left is creepin’ me out. He looks like he needs an exorcist.
Hipsterbag. “Ironic” T-shirt, ill-fitting, ancient windbreaker, low-rise skinny black jeans, Emo Hitler haircut, soul patch, and burning cynicism. All he needs are the big-framed glasses and a ticket for the Ok Go concert and he’s full tilt. I give him a kick in the nads, tell him Wicker Park sucks and so does his band. Then I escape with the hott and take her to Mannequins. ‘Cause she, like, loves to dance and drink appletinis. and I love to fondle drunk girls’ boobies.
“He’ll pay. Oh, he’ll pay.” He said it to his reflection in the mirror every morning just after he woke and every night just before going to sleep. It was always that way with Hector. Even when they were little kids Hector got all the attention. As they got older, all the girls fell for Hector but none for him. “I’ll show that son of bitch” he thought. The last straw came in 8th grade Health class. Hector was busy flirting with Missy Jenkins too caught up in his own conversation to notice at first. A girl, a real live flesh and blood girl was talking to him. As soon as Hector noticed, a cruel thin smile came across his face. “Don’t bother, at most he can only grunt and say ‘Groooo'” Hector told her. It was from that moment on he knew he would try to destroy Hector in any way possible.
The day after their high school graduation they were separated for good. The Tijuana veterinarian made sure of that. He was a friend of the mother’s who owed her a favor. It was the veterinarian who gave him his first break. Cleaning up donkey afterbirth for 8 hours everyday gave him a sense of a job well done and a boost to his manhood. As the years went by he managed to save up of the meager pay the vet occasionally through his way instead of the losers of the previous night’s cocck fights. He knew it was time to leave the vet when he had $7.95 more than the exact amount for a bus ticket back to La Jolla.
As soon as he arrived, he went to the nearest Kinko’s and had Hector’s picture put on a T-shirt. The punk behind the counter wouldn’t understand, would never know what it was like to be him. He had been accepted by the vet but here he was cause for pointing, jeering, and for women having spontaneous abortions. He could never hide what Hector had done to him but he could sure as hell kill Hector if given the chance.
As he started walking up the street towards his old house, he could see his mother in the doorway. Why, why didn’t she save him from all the abuse that Hector had thrown his way when they were younger? She could have stopped it, could have ended it sooner. And then he remembered the reason she didn’t. Truck stop hookers don’t make the same kind of money that whale autopsy technicians do. Hell, a lettuce washer at Wendy’s makes more but she wasn’t qualified for either of those positions. No, the lack of move-able joints in her body made her useful for only one thing. His rage subsided quickly when he thought about. As he climbed the stairs he looked at her for some hint of maternal acceptance, love, or any sign that she had feelings for him other than pity. He saw her gentle smile but she could not hide the pity in her eyes. “Same shit, different day” he thought.. He needed to find Hector. “Where is Hector?” he bellowed at his mother but all that came out was “Groooo grooo groo.” “Son, let me explain” his mother said to try and calm him down. “I I was young and stupid when I got pregnant with you and Hector. I never thought in a million years that I could get pregnant by having sex with an Asian hermaphrodite club promoter with spiky hair. Pat told me that he/she was sterile.” He felt the anger begin to simmer in his stomach again. She continued. “When they said I was having twins I became so happy. I had visions of dressing you up in the same outfits and giving you rhyming names. Those thoughts ended the moment the vet, I mean doctor pulled you from me. I could see the concern in his eyes, he looked a little panicked. Hector was smaller than you but you weren’t breathing. They wanted me to make a decision right then and there as to what to do with you. I told them to do their best to get you breathing but if they couldn’t I would understand. It was then that one of Hector’s tiny flailing fists hit you that you took your first gasp of air. Nobody could believe what had just happened. That miracle convinced me to keep you joined like a human centipede.” The rage moved up to his chest now. ” Sure it may have seemed cruel to you to live like that for eighteen years but I didn’t have the money for the operation. Hell, it was giving birth to you two that caused all my joints to freeze up permanently. So when Doctor Dickinsider said he would help me after a night of furious face-fucking I accepted his offer. Don’t you understand that most people would have throw you away as nothing more than a hideous tumor or an over-expressed anal sac when you were born? No, all you can think of is how you were tormented every day growing up. Well tough shit mister, there are a lot of other people out there in worse situations than you!” He was done listening.
A sudden calm came over him after he killed his mother. He didn’t think he could actually do it but he found the strength in her words. Unfortunately that still left him not knowing where Hector was. “I will walk to the ends of the Earth to find him and when I do, this mess will look like a little girl’s tea party.” He got up, made his way to the door and continued the search for Hector once more…
That hand doesn’t look like it’s got too much longer. With that look on his face, he looks like he could be Gator’s cousin.
.
Perhaps he works at a 7-11 and had to fish out an old cinnamon roll from the slurpee machine, for which I would be grateful to his cold, red hands.
I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything after “Eliza Dushku”…
Boss, your a saint. I’d do much, much worse to poor Eliza. Like give her a full body massage with hot, scented oils by candlelight without reciprocation.
her look says, “ok we took a photo, I gotta go pee now”
his look says, “I know what you have in your closet”
@Doc B, you’re no Kroeger but throw in some Miley Cyrus references along with your matricide and you’ll get there. Nice twist with 4 Prong being the father. Disturbing on 4 levels.
Eliza = Hottest Hott in at least a few weeks if not more.
Being an avid fan of assorted varieties of punk and heavy metal for the better part of my life, I’m used to seeing
choadwipes bite the “look”. But this Hipster Epidemic (yes, it is an epidemic) is really just getting to be too much. I remember when wearing a leather jacket meant you listened to music with at least more than 20 bpm’s…or guitars.
Sad thing is that he probably knocks her bottom out on a regular basis. I’ve given up trying to figure out why hotts are attracted to Hipsterbags.
.
Medussa FTW
.
Doc Bunsen, I’m looking forward to the ending
Samurai Scrotes lil’ brother, Tomahawk Taint
Tomahawk Taint performs open heart surgery without use of a SCALPel
Tomahawk Taint wears war paint around his bung hole
Yomahawk Taint refers to all his dates as ‘Irappaho”
Tomahawk Taint pees fire water
Tomahawk Taint wipes with TeePee
Tomahawk Taint wears a poon skinned cap
Geronimo screams “Tomahawk Taint” before doing cannonballs in wading pools
Pouter, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s gay to wear a tee-shirt adorned with your mother’s picture?
Also, great jacket…is that naugahyde?
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/images/uploads/at4485ee9a90d031.02389470.jpg
I dunno, looks more like a mustachioed, gun-weilding version of The Man From Another Place than anything else.
@Et Tu Douche?, 3:50 pm: I dunno. She’s got her hands clasped together in an attempt to not touch this wanker and her face screams “can I leave now”?
.
At least that is what I am going to keep telling myself…
Douche. He’s as tough as douche itself and as dumb as a sack of hammers. But RW Eliza thinks he’s Johnny Rotten’s kid brother.
And the baby scarface t-shirt I openly mock as “hipster humor” among my coworkers. It’s also known as “I have no idea what goes on outside my television so let’s rearrange the TV icons in humorous fashion” humor. And there you have Threadless.com’s art formula.
@ Doctor Bunsen
That story was as heartwarming as it was eloquent and violent.
^ Is this modelled after Homer.
She’s so hott I would recreationally abuse every alcoholic, anti-depressant, antipsychotic, anxiolytic, hypnotic, analgesic, hallucinogenic and entheogenical substance available on the surface of the earth while humping a dry slab of porch beef in front of the Drug Czar himself if it meant I’d be granted the supreme privilege of speaking in tongues to Eliza’s piano teacher’s ecumenical priest.
Shelby’s smile slowly betrayed her growing uneasiness when she spied Marvin holding the keychain remote to a windowless ‘91 Ford Econoline.
@Me,
.
But wait… how does she know it’s windowless?
”This will be the last time she makes fun of my obsession with ‘Team Edward’,” Herman silently surmised as he flipped the TNT detonator with his thumb.
The fact that his father was a midget with a fetish for holding walrus cocks never deterred Mortimer from wearing t-shirts with his pop’s paternal effigy on them.
As the biker gang strode gallantly and fabulously into the Rainbow Pony Saloon, the head bartender couldn’t help but ask to get her picture taken with the leader of the feared “Smells Anals.”
Although Uncle Rico was a licentious little person who owned a silk screening business that catered to the ‘self-portrait’ market, Manny figured that wearing his uncle’s t-shirts would help him forget all those “happy lap” days of his youth.
Groupies were always clambering to get their picture with the hot new EMO lead singer from Black Homocycle Anal Club.
{{crickets}}
{{tumbleweeds}}
Hello! {{echo}}
.
Anyone home?
.
Where did everyone go?
Eliza Dushku has extremely odd shaped breasts.
I would still knaw on them.
Son.
Sorry fellers, I have been derelict in my duties around here of late.
.
There ya go:
.
.
And maybe this
.
Is anyone else watching this epic Li Na v. Wozniacki battle ?
@vin
Thanks, man. That second pic put me off drinking. And possibly girls.
I dunno, Mr. White. If you take out the wine, she’s been kind enough to provide a convenient receptacle for your seed should you wish to wank overtop her backside. Rather civilized, you ask me.
@ Crucial
.
You’re finally back? For reals this time? We almost got a flier printed up (They kind of look like the little person on this dickhead’s shirt but we put in some pruning shears in place of a gun and the little person was wearing a chauhuahua on his head) and posted it in the alley behind the KFC on the Vegas strip. Thank God we can stiff Kinko’s out of their $0.99. Yeah we all chipped in for the color flier.
@ Mr. White
.
Well don’t be lookin’ my way. You were the one who caused me to undergo “the big change” in the first place.
@Vin Douchal, 9:10 pm: When DarkSock sees that second photo his head(s) will explode…
Say hello to my little angry goth pretend punk rocker.
wow
wow