Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Arctic Flunkie
Skinny tie wearing hipster emo shoecruds may not be your standard issue Jerzey Douchebag. But they will always have a place of mock here at HCwDB.
That being said, real reason for posting the pic? Real World Hottie Juliette’s glorious globby mounds of firm baby feeding poet inspiring superball gummy gumms shake weight Jake LaMotta raging bulls of round mound of rebound.
Or, as Shakespeare once wrote:
But soft! It is the East. And Juliette is the sun! Boobs.
Angry hipster pud should be smiling seeing that he’s in such close proximity to lovely ample mounds of jiggly fun bags. I know I’d be smiling or at least grinning.
@et tu
He’s not smiling because hipsters can only appreciate boobs ironically.
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I can, however, assure Juliette that there will be nothing ironic, metaphorical, figurative, or symbolic about my worship of her boobage. I have a leash that will go well with the collar she has on, too.
She has the kinds of boobs you want measure with wooden rulers and plumb-bobs while wearing white lab coats and safety glasses.
This dude needs to be ironically hit upside the head with a pick axe.
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Her boobs are wonderful. And by wonderful I mean takes attention away from her horseface. Still doable though, just sayin’.
Ahhh, the stories their eyes tell…
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Emo McSulkie: “That’s right, buddy…just keep movin’ along. She’s MINE; stop looking at her, she’s not…JULIETTE! DON”T LOOK AT HIM! Juliette?”
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Julliette: “Mmmmm…I bet I can melt that weinercicle in your pants with my microwave titties…and I’ll bet it tastes just like dong-burger…let me lose the boy here and you can tell me why your sock is so….DARK….”
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I hear women thinking that a lot, actually. I think they can even hear me listening to them think, because after I stare at them more than 40 seconds with a boner they turn and look at me with an alarmed look on their face. I usually just brag to them that I can read minds because I’m psychotic. Most run off.
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But not all…
Her boobs send me feelings of good tides on this the most holy day in my Ministry. I and the other Reverends are filled with anticipation of the start of a new cycle of life. As I go out into the back glades with some of my inner circle to prepare for the festivities I overlook mocking this Billie Joe Armstrong faker from the band Been Gay. The solstice is upon us my friends. The load of the new superweed arrived in time and another two longboards have been ordered in celebration of the annual assembling of Stonedhedge my backyard. The birds and fuzzy creatures are dancing in anticipation of the weirdos arriving for the twelve hour orgy of expectations with my wicca and druid friends. Lenny the Box will be on hand vending his usual bag of treats. The church supplies weed and Kool-Aid Jammers for the duration. Frosty Canadian lager by the bottle will be available for a small donation to the Ministry. We use bottles for the ceremony of The Hedge where we listen to Cream music in quad while we cast bottles at the evil spirits in the cedars surrounding Stonedhedge. Mrs. Kroeger is on hand today to cook the traditional porch beef and pineapple kabob with ham and split pea soup.
And by split pea soup, I mean taint licking.
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Chieftains
Is beer recognized as a good source of fiber in the new food pyramid?
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Toastmasters.
The new food pyramid is actually not a pyramid at all- it’s a plate. I think it had something to do with Mubarek and the Egyptian Spring. Or is it Fall? Fuck, I don’t know.
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Anyway, they mistakenly mislabeled it “Dairy”, but that should be “Beer”
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But where are my 2 tasty serving of boobies?
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HoHos aren’t on there? I’m suspicious of what the USDA is doing with my tax money to be honest.
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Hipsterbag here has yet to contribute tax money to society, so he can just shut the fuck up.
The Rev:
My pilgrimage to the North Ministry begins today after I take one last look at Juliette’s boobies.
I Juliette.
^^^ I [heart] Juliette.
Delicious fleshy orbs of bouncy floppy faceplanting afternoon spent nekkid and finger/tongue/schvantz exploring every inside centermetre of the sloshing soaked fetus production center , G-spot to lickety taint.
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Bastions
He looks like he listens exclusively to bands whose names are sentence fragments, like As I Lay Dying With My October Bride or something.
She looks like someone who would say “excuse me, I’ve got to use the bathroom” 45 seconds after I approached her in a half-drunk state to ostensibly chat with her but my wandering eyes would give away my true intentions.
@ Rev Chad,
If you drink enough cheap beer, it will definitely move the bowels the next morning. Isn’t that what fiber does? Drink on. Son.
Boobs.
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Boobs
If douchebags be the food of hott love,
Let’s hunt douchebags with helicopters!
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Credo’s to #shakespalin
yick…he’s probably turned her dutch oven into a yeast factory
The Arctic Flunkie FTW I just spit water everywhere.
And the boobage FTB
I believe we should petition the IOC to make boob spelunking an Olympic sport. Please make sure to pass the petition to the next signer with your non-sticky hand. Thanks.
Go on and be depressed,hell,hang yourself with your red tie.
Boobs, indeed!
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Nicely played. I mean her boobs.
2 things:
1.) Her boobs are a delight!
2.) Why do I have the Dave Matthews Band’s “Ants Marching” stuck in my cranium whenever I look at his pouty emo face?
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Sucka