Friday, May 27, 2011
Between a Schmuck and a Soft Place (Hermit Edition)
Resident auteur supreme Hermit shares with us this cautionary tale:
When Chaturi left her native Sri Lanka for the United States on a ninety day student visa, she dared not reveal to her strictly traditional parents that she hoped to meet a nice American boy. She now finds herself flanked by Bruce, who oddly shows no interest in her perky, push-up booble cleavage, and Vince who does, but smells of Aqua Velva and false confidence.
She’s quickly becoming homesick.
I’d Dalai her lama.
Guy on left looks like something I shat out once after drinking 2 liter of trucker laxative and eating 3 cans of Hormel Turkey Chili. I named it Milquetoast and quickly beat into thirds with a plunger so i could flush it.
I cannot tell which one is Bruce and which one is Vince. This is intentional, right?
She’s more Long Island than Sri Lanka. Bruce and Vince are 100% pud.
@Hermit, Bruce is on our left and Vince is on our right?
.
The Vince’s of the world are the most fun to mess with. Um psychologically speaking of course. I mean gross he’s like a douchebag so of course I wouldn’t hit it.
She’s going to have to ask security to walk her to her car later.
What the hell? That’s the love child of Flea and Nick Lachey in the suit.
Vince MacMahon’s attempts to clone The Miz and Randy Orton met with mixed results when his scientists added five parts gay instead of the usual two.
@ Nancy D. I believe you are right, m’dear. Both in reference to Bruce’s flanking position and the psychological hijink possibilities presented by the Bruiser.
@ Nancy D. I believe you are right, m’dear. Both in reference to Bruce’s flanking position and the psychological hijink possibilities presented by the Bruiser
Erm, sorry about the double post. I am a Luddite at heart.
Shit I use Aqua Velva aftershave,,,,bc its not Axe, etc.
That a white bread sandwich with an overdone hamburger in the middle.
Guy on the right could be a supervillain.
New Menu Item at Quiznos- the #3 special- A beat up roast beef sandwhich in sourdough. Garnished with Lettuce, tomatoe and Bruce’s secret sauce that he harvests one mouthful at a time from Vince’s peen. If you order it as a combo, you get a diet pop and chalmydia.
FACK! Chlamydia.
One tires of the faux-hawk. So thoughtless. So ubiquitous. So very douche supreme. The hideous style may live forever and in infamy since it simply and perfectly is all that is douche. The douche-hawk takes less time or effort then any other form of douchebagism. Less time than it takes to achieve oompa-orangina. Less time than juicing. Less effort than lifting while looking longingly at one’s douche-flexion in the mirror at Bally’s. Even less time than to shop for just the right Ed Hardy for that perfect pud look. The douche-hawk is in fact the gateway to scrote. So, we can fairly well imagine how it took little more than the initial spark of pud-douchery, a handful of splooge, and a swipe or two of the combo to turn Ken and Robbie from Staples cashiers to pahty happahs on the douchal path one fine evening and led to the fateful photo-collision with sweet Chaturi much to her and our dismay.