Monday, November 21, 2011
Melvin In the Garden of Hot Chick Eden
I gotta say, good for you, Melvin. Messy mid 70’s Anchorman style aside, your poo eating grin is well deserved and prefectly apropos to the situation of illogic in which you find yourself.
Now bite the proverbial apple, and cast us all into sin.
I guess all these girls went to Head Tilt University.
Blow me.
I want that to be my wedding picture. Except for Melvin.
The Laws of Physics tell us that when you have large pendulous orbs on your chest swaying in one direction, you must tilt your head for balance.
Hello Melvin. Goodbye $. Hello blue balls.
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This guy is a shoo-in for the 1st Annual “Chris Rock: There’s No Sex In The Champagne Room” trophy.
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Which is different from “Most Expensive First Date”.
ps Nice titties!
Eff ’em all, let G*d sort them out.
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Or something…
I see Sweater Meats…
mammutarians…
The girl on the left doesn’t have a mouth. Some of you may be cool with that.
Daddy won’t be happy when he gets next months credit card bill. Melvin is all smiles though.
In Russia, boobies chase you.
Like Adam of Biblical times, men throughout history have been tempted by the wiles of feminity. The following is an irrelevant, but true autobiographical tale of my first temptation as a decent, chaste and impressionable youth.
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As a boy of fifteen I was hired by a neighbor to clean the window glass of their home which had an open view to the back yard through several, large picture windows. Our neighbor, Mr. T______ , was a professor at the State College. He was a rotund, bespectacled man in his late sixties who sported the requisite inflated ego and salt and pepper beard of a man of his profession. He had been married several times and would introduce his wife as “My Current.”
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Mr. T______’s “current” was a woman in her early fifties named Ursula, whom I always found slightly intimidating. She was attractive for her age, and spoke with a thick Austrian accent. She looked like a central casting East German villain from a sixties-era James Bond movie.
Mr. T_____ briefly instructed me on how the windows were to be cleaned, stressing that, “You’re not so much cleaning, but “polishing” the windows.” He brought me a step ladder, and when satisfied I had grasped the “polishing” concept, excused himself and left to run some errands.
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As I finished the first window and climbed down the ladder, Ursula beckoned me from the liquor cabinet and asked, “’Vould you like a drink?” I was surprised by her offer, and quickly answered, “No, I don’t drink.” She gave me a look of mild disappointment and poured herself a tall drink. I watched her, mesmerized, as she slunk over and curled up on the leather sofa like a prowling, Nordic she-leopard.
Ursula withdrew a long cigarette from an ornate case, lit it and inhaled deeply, then looked across the room at me with a flat emotionless stare. She blew out the smoke and coldly asked, “Do ‘ze young girls ever let you touch their mumu?” Seeing the look of apparent confusion on my face, she touched her crotch, smiled slightly and said, “You know ‘ze pussy?”
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It was all I could do to keep from dropping the glass bottle of Windex to the floor as I stood there in shock. Beads of nervous perspiration started forming on my brow, while deep down in the folds of my Levis® I could feel my loins beginning to stir. My smooth, slender, juvenile boy-penis began to twitch and pulsate like a horny lake trout on a late-April spawning run. I stood there conflicted, caught between tantalizing arousal and abject horror.
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Horror finally won out. I grunted something incoherently, turned away red-faced, and began nervously fiddling around with the ladder. Behind me I heard Ursula exhale loudly, rise to her feet, and with a derisory “tisk, tisk,” leave the room, her high heels clicking on the cold linoleum.
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I hastily finished the windows and walked home, a confused bundle of mixed emotions and raging hormones. Shaken to the core but undefiled, still the quintessential essence of purity and virtue.
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The resulting masturbation session was short but sweet.
^Now that ladies and germs is how you tell a god damn story. Get thee to a mumuery Hermit, you deserve it.
…And that was the day Hermit knew he was gay.
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Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Hopefully for Melvin the girls went to Head Lick University. Good for Melvin, a hearty “Huzzah” and Best Wishes even if this a “paid for posing” photo.
Hermit must have the Comment Of The Year. Unless said comment is supposed to be made on the caption it is printed under.
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Rule clarification please.
Go in peace young man. Great rack on the Hotts.
If he get’s a Notta, he should at least be submitted for Madame Toussaud’s.
He looks like Clay Aiken done right.
Hermit fuels my desire to keep reading this site when I have not the time to comment… fuck work and this fucking economy.
Son of a fuccin she-camel. How dare that shriveled up old cougar do that to an innocent young man!
Melvin will never surpass this moment in his life. Mila Kunis lookalike on the left; Britmey Spears lookalike on the right. A Las Vegas walletectomy in progress.
Crucial, I thought you were doing a dime up in Folsom. Nice to hear from you again, you old reprobate. Did I spell that right?
I’ve always believed in Lämp as a powerful and omnipresent force on this site. Today those beliefs have been reinforced.
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And it was good.
Shit, I got distracted and forgot to thank Hermit for that story. At least you didn’t shoot in your pants, which is better than I would’ve done at that age. Fuck, or this one, for that matter.
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Fun fact, Melvin is another name for a Wedgie. Just sayin’.
Notta.
Boobs.
Hermit, I can only assume in a previous life, you were a lowly staff writer for circa early-70’s publications such as Hustler, Leg Show and Juggs.
Notta
Glad they’re giving this poor sap a reason to live though.
Melvin in the Middle: an orderly sorta guy
Pink Ladies on right: Hospital Volunteers
Black Ladies on left: their Evil Twins
One side of girls are the dark EVIL ones and the others are the GOOD pink ones.
Fwapping ropes re: brunette on far right. Id like to see her with a Charms Sour Apple blow pop.
The Female US Olympic Head Tilt Squad? (non – douchal).
Windex came in glass bottles?
Great stuff by Hermit.
Good to see some classic bag hunters are back for the annuals.
@ Wedgie,
Yep, If I would have tried to go through with it, Ursula would probably have been sorely disappointed.
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@ CB Popped,
Yep, in those halcyon days of my misspent youth the bottles were glass, the cans were tin and the mumu was free of deadly diseases.
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The politicians were pillars of the community and could be trusted for their honor, sincerity and unassailable honesty.
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We could use a man like Richard Nixon again.
^But Hermit, you couldn’t have listened to Foster The People back then. Mrs. Kroeger was found dancing with the rotten ones last night in the family room. Fucking song was so jingly I couldn’t sleep with the fucking thing ringing in my ears. I want to be a one-hit wonder some day. Fucking 20 year old hipsters.
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Reagan Assassins
^ Yeah Rev, and that fuckin’ Adele is starting to get on my nerves too.
Rumor has it she’s losing her voice. Maybe there is a benevolent God.
Dammit Crucial as an architect you gotta learn how to manage time!
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Just do what Goolo does; post your shit and don’t read the other stuff!
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Mighty effin’ good to see that cig-suckin’ avatar back here. Now if we could dig up BCS’s ass…
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Designers.
*click!*
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I LOVE CRUCIAL HEAD!
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*click!*
Fuckin’ nepos…
Oh, almost forgot about Melvin up there…..
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I have some stones I’d like to cast at that tit house he lives in.
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Stones in my pants.
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Yogurt Bombs.
Wow,,,,the mumu was free of diseases…..damn.
At least Ursula knew a quality future ‘bag hunter when she saw one, and immediately went for the underage Hermit cocck, etc.
@ Hermit–I just got an idea. I want to illustrate one of your stories, graphic novel style. The ones about The Machine are my favorites.
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Melvin will soon tire of picking these girls up after their head tilts cause them to fall.
Good gracious that’s a whole lot of yumminess in one picture! I do believe it is a porn convention though because the chick flashing the peace sign sure looks like Faye Reagen.
Right you are, TS: http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/193/melvininthelandofhotchi.jpg/
Fucking song was so jingly I couldn’t sleep with the fucking thing ringing in my ears. I want to be a one-hit wonder some day.
Hey, it’s an open wide field, given that “summer tune” is a nice jingle, referencing school shootings . Put a electro-pop, “Deadmau5” mix about prolapsed rectums, and before you know it, clubs will be pump fisting like crazy in proctological praise.
Yep, these ladies appear very porno star ish.