Thursday, August 23, 2012
What it Looks like When a Father Fails
Somewhere in Dallas, a man who had a daughter twenty years ago stares into the existential abyss of his mirror and realizes the completion of his failure is signaled by a lip piercing.
His hat should read Self Layed.
Self Made Jiffy Lube mechanic
Don’t worry pops I’m gonna take good care of yo’ baby girl know what I’s sayin’?
Hey, Yo Slim Shady what’re you maxing out with on the bench with those pipe cleaners son? 40, 50 lbs?
Self made = reproduces asexually
White Skirt with the Holy Black Triangle of Paradise beckons. Even with her legs dangling in the pee filled baby pool and her liassez faire attitude.
My dumps are self made but you don’t see them braggin about it.
He can’t legitimately claim to be “Self Made” when he’s borrowing her “stunna shades.”
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It’s in the rules, man.
Looks like his shirts were self made. No wait, that requires some skill.
Truer words were never printed on an overpriced hat before. Self Made indeed. Remember that when your unemployment runs out and you’re sitting on the back stoop of your bro’s apartment with the notices from Family Services scattered at your feet reminding you that you’re way, way behind on child support to those three thankless skanks you knocked up over the past decade. And the beer in your hand’s gotten warm and flat, and the needle tracks on your right arm arm starting to blister, messing with the fine look of your almost finished tatt. And your cell phone is full of unanswered calls from your dick boss at What the Fluff karpet Kleeners, not that it matters since you gave your car to Joey Dime Bags to pay off your tab at the club so you couldn’t get to work even if you wanted to, which you don’t. And then there’s that week-old text from Britney Sue that says “Call me. Tst rezults r in.”
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Yes. Nobody to blame for what’s coming but you. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving jackass.
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Jackass.
“Hey yo, I’m gonna self make in yo daughter.”-Douche
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“Ah, its cool, I’m too drunk/stoned to care.”-Dad
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And repeat.
Yo girl, lets go to the ERs tonight and score somes vi-co-dans, I gots medicaid and shit, it’s free.
Damn, Mr Tater Head has totally bummed me out. But then again that made me happy because if it really happens it would be awesome
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A cautionary douchetale
He still self makes in his Scooby Doo sheets at night.
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Nocturesis
He’s referring to those shorts he has on, right?
Maybe this is what’s on his mind?
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http://www.telemachus12.com/picstories/priapus17_selfmademen/SelfMadeMen02.jpg
Avril Lavigne’s horrible taste in men chronicled HERE including projected baby photo w Nickelcock dude :
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She’s still got a little of that post-pregnancy fat to work off. Nothing a quickly developing addiction to meth can’t handle.
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Somewhere in Dallas, a man thinks about that time his daughter caught him touching her under her pajamas while she was supposedly sleeping. He takes another long tug on his Budweiser tall boy, scenes of their ruined relationship spinning violently past his red rimmed eyes, and he curses himself silently, wishing he had just remembered to slip the crushed sleeping pills into her dinner like he’d done every time before.
Nothing sadder than a young girl with a great face and a boner reducing gunt. Gunt, I says.
“You see, my backs like real messed up from my BMX accident so I gots to take like a buncha painkillers and that’s why I drink so much. I’m glad your standards are low baby.”
Nothing sadder than a new mother doing meth to get skinny to please old perverts on the web.
Nothing sadder than a turd wearing a hat that says “Self-Made”. I’m not nearly that proud of my bowel movements. It’s just a thing that happens in the morning. I get on with my day afterwards and don’t think about it anymore. Dressing it up, taking pictures of it, and posting it on the internet is just…wrong.
He’s gonna self make in his pants when he goes up to a group of black dudes at the party and says “wazzup my ni@@az?” and wakes up in the hospital 2 days later shitting blood into a bag out his side and has his jaw wired shut.
Mr. Scrotato Head is hitting this one and making me depressed. And by depressed I mean I’m gonna do a few lines of White Lightning. And by lines of White Lightning I mean a doobie spinkled with coke and Cymbalta. Son. Cause I’m totally back on all the drugs again.
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Daughter Boners
Who is this new poster “This just in…”? seems to know an awful lot about the goings on here and has only been posting for 2 days.
You wanna know what’s sadder, I’m a pretty quick study.
Looks like Shirtless Largeman , in the background, has a little Captain in him.
You wanna know what’s sadder? Nancy Drueche keeps finding ways around the I.P. block.
You wanna know what’s sadder? Two starving vampires fighting over Plinky’s Mom’s used tampon.
You wanna know what’s sadder? A sack of dead puppies next to a broken bottle of Crown Royal.
You wanna know what’s sadder? Snooki, upon hearing that the world’s sole producer of anal bleach suffered a devastating fire at their asshole pinking factory.
You wanna know what’s sadder, I have know idea what or how to get around an IP web block.
Her belly button forms a tiny cave, where little people live. There’s 4 of them – Jimmy, Bobbie, Lori, and Denise.
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Jimmy’s the quiet one. He is stern and serious and only eats okra.
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Bobbie’s the funny one. He can tell jokes about raping baby faces that always gets everyone in a good mood.
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Lori’s the pretty one. She’s got a body that screams “fuck me please!” Unfortunately, she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so her body usually says, “let’s watch baseball.”
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Denise is the smart one. She knows everything worth knowing, and anything she doesn’t know, their little tiny kitty cat, Tingles “the ring tailed chickabeastie defender of the realm”, certainly does know. Because he went school for for home economics and advanced napping.
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Together they live in her belly button. They mine it for lint, and that is how they make clothing – everything is made of felt.
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Some times the belly button gets unhappy and says “Bwaaaa – you people go away!” So they just pour booze into it, and that shuts the drunken old slut right up.
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I remember Moses.
You wanna know what’s sadder? IT MUST EAT GRAIN
You wanna know what’s sadder? A one-dicked man in an ass-kicking contest.
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Wait…
You wanna know what’s sadder? We just peed in your pool; please don’t crap in our ashtray.
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Wait…that’s not how it goes….
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We just smoked in your toilet; please don’t pee in our stove.
You wanna know what’s sadder, as far as regulars go Troy is one of the more normal ones.
You wanna know what’s sadder, sadder is considered a word whereas funner is not.
The regs (and some reg using a new name) are on fire today. On fire I says.
I had no idea our beloved wooden puppet was also a writer of children’s picture books.
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Picture books I says.
You wanna know what’s sadder, you guys are my anti-drug.
Is this some kind of loser parade?
He’s the one with the lip piercing, not her.
I think the hat is actually Self Harm.
Friggin’ sausage party at the pool.
3 chicks to 25 guys not a good ratio.