Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Atoning for Alpacas
Your humb narras will be spending the day atoning for a whole host of personal deconstructions, not the least of which involves my unhealthy obsession with sexy, sexy alpacas.
I imagine them in the sweetest of knee socks and skirts.
Making sexy falsetto mews and brays.
And I am shamed in the eyes of Adonai.
An even greater sin because the great Hebraic prophet, Moab, explicitly condemns alpaca fetishization in “Psalm Like it Hot.”
And then there’s my unhealthy obsession with treyf Pear. Perhaps more understandable, since Maimonides himself was a huge Pear fanatic.
But still.
All will resume tomorrow.
Shofar so good.
I blame that last pun on your moms.
Fortunately this photo can easily be cropped.
If’n this be the sole post for today, I’m proposing to hi-jack it into a “What Would You Do For The Privilege of *insert verb* to Francine?
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I, for one, would eat 12 rotten buzzard eggs out of Whoopi Goldbergs asshole after she’d run an August marathon while stapling my foreskin to her kneecap just for the privilege of jacking off a raccoon that once observed Francine pulling her car over on a lonely stretch of I-95 to vomit up those 7 cosmos some paunchy asshole in an Affliction shirt kept sending to her table.
I like big butts. Bend over butticus looks like she’d be all sorts of drunken, sloppy, naughtiness and I approve.
If I could read the mind behind the behind it would go something like this, “Gosh this guy is so lame. I wish some dude who was into sex with alpacas would save me. My life would be like 10 times better than it is with this loser who tells me to bend over and say cheese.”
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@DarkSock, we need a current pic of Francine to see if its worth it. If she partied like the Mac me thinks she might look Lohan-ty nine years old now. Thus greatly reducing the number of rabbis badgers I would molest for the chance to get up in them guts.
^Crap, I forgot to sign in. That’s me up above.
“What Would You Do For The Privilege of *insert verb* to Francine?
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While Francine was watching, I would slap the recently packed bong out of Rev Chad’s hands and at the same time loudly deride the quality of Lenny the Box’s product in the hopes it would enrage him to no end at which point he proceeds to beat me silly all for the slight chance Francine has a compassionate mother hen bone in her body at which point she clutches me to her wondrous rack, feeling sorry for me and thus allowing me a sympathy feel of her glorious fun bags as seen here*
*http://hotchickswithdouchebags.com/2009/10/29/caption-this-pic-67/
I will continue to represent the small handful-of-butt spinner party. Enjoy your giant soccer mom arses, sons. But you are contributing to the McDonald’s, bioengineered cornfed decline of western civilization. May the Audrey Hepburn forgive you.
For the privilege of overhearing Francine tell her friend she’s tired of guys only seeing her as a sex object while she maxes out her credit card at Frederick’s of Hollywood, I would reserve my drinking till after 5p for a week.
For the priveledge of overhearing Francine bitch about how she has to buy her own drinks at the bar now I would buy her a drink.
For the priveledge of helping Francine with her resume so she can get a job to support her two kids and unemployed douchebag baby daddy I would only masterbate every other day.
Dressed as one of the LMFAO tools, I would drink the colostomy bag of a geriatric Armenian while scrubbing the syphilitic aortitis balls of a rabid bull walrus, underwater, to use my cocck hole to touch the festering rag of the H&M store janitor that wiped the bench in the changing room after Francine tried on thong bikini bottoms “For The Privilege of *posting this photo of Francine* “to smack my dangle yet again to her.
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RRRrrr!!!
For the priveledge of sitting in on a Mac the Nozzle face tattoo removal session I would babysit Francine’s two idiot kids for an hour.
For the priveledge of overhearing Francine tell her friend that the reason she’s getting another boob job to go from Cs to Ds is because shes like just not getting the respect that she deserves.
Oh crap, for the above Francine priveledge I would cheer for the opposing sports team at a home game.
For the privelege of tasting the full flow tampon drippings and chunks of Francine ripe young menstruation juice,I would read “The Secret” while cutting my penis ever so slightly with rusty porch beef cans while eating 3 pounds of raw sardines drinking turpentine with dirty shish-ka-boob skewers holding my eyes open while I watch a full day of “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo.”
That there broad in the picture has some kinda clam on her. Bein’ that it’s a holy Jew day I’m surprised we’d see a clam since shell fish ain’t kosher.
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This picture reminds me of the time I went hard anal with Joan Rivers in a mikvah bath on Succot and woke up the next morning with a gigantic pusswart on my schwantz.
Todd Snider, true musician
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Slash story and “Talkin’ Seattle Grunge Rock Blues
I would agree to have my gravestone be a life-sized statue of Rick Santorum, giving the Buddy Jesus thumbs up, just for the chance to be in the bar – during the original Mac the Nozzle image – to hear Francine giggle as they walked out the door together.
I would catch a grape in my mouth shot out of Rush Limbaugh’s asshole for the privilege of jerking off Francine’s gardener’s dog (nod to Crucial Head, R.I.P.).
I wanna go to DB1’s shul.
Francine was before my time here at HCwDB, judging by the posts above she must be quite something and fits prominently into the HCwDB mythos. So without further adieu… The ass clowns watermelon socks remind of the prop comic Gallagher I hate prop comics, I would spend a whole day with Carrot Top then attend a Gallagher show just to meet Francine and return Gallaghers socks to him.
For the chance to hair mail my man smoothy Francine’s way, I would listen to that fkn idiot Brandel Chamblee do one of his 10-minute run on sentences babbling about golf. But if that stamp ain’t licked by then, Ima kick Chamblee in the teeth.
For the privilege of hearing Francine complain that my dick is too small, my tongue is too short, and my vibrator too large to put where many, many a manhood has gone before I would sit through a Cirque du Soleil show, attend a Republican fundraiser, and pretend to enjoy a Charlie Sheen sitcom vehicle, all while polishing her taint and humming my complete archive of Burl Ives’ folk songs into my circa 1979 Lanier pocket recorder.
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.Then I would sneak away and quietly masturbate to the sweet, sweet mellifluous notes of one of Brandel Chamblee’s 10 minute run-on sentences that tell you absolutely nothing you already don’t know about the game of golf.
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.Yeah, that’s what I’d do.
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.Then I’d help The Dude kick him in the teeth.
I’d gladly hang a pair of bath salts-enraged tomcats from my delicate scrotal sack with two size 9/0 fish hooks, for just a brief sniff of the not-so-fresh bikini bottoms Francine once wore at a sweet sixteen pool party.
For the priveledge of telling Francine that not only are her best days behind her, but she should also probably get that rash checked out I would write another one if these things.
For the priveledge of schooling Francine about the benefits of the long game vs. the short game I would waste two hours of my life doing so since she’ll never understand it anyway.
For the priveledge of witnessing one more epic Samurai Scrote thread I would take Francine out to dinner then skip out before the Bill came. Bill our waiter, who I went to blow in the bathroom.
The guy’s socks bother me.
CrucialHead RIP? Since when? I know he hasn’t posted here in a while, but I didn’t think he died. DarkSock – what’s the word?
Hall of Fame Mockers aren’t supposed to die until the Mockopalypse. And that clearly hasn’t happened yet.
@The Dude, dare I as what happens during the Mockopalypse? I dare ask. What happens during the Mockopalypse and what can I do to prepare?
Honey Boo-Boo is a great fucking show to watch when your family is around you stoned on cookies. Stoned Son.
What about the Alpacaopolypse?
I think someone got Crucial Head mixed up with BCS?
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http://www.legacy.com/guestbooks/news-herald/guestbook.aspx?n=braxton-shiplett&pid=148110134&cid=full
RIP FLYTEETH, Ye will be missed.
RIP CB Popped, poor guy fwapped himself to death.
The majority of today’s posts should end with “The Aristocrats!”
This is the kind of thick-ankled gal that reminds me of my days in college. The kind of gal who could chug PBR on tap with the best of them and then give you an above average blowy before barfing up the whole mish-mash. Kind of like the kind of girls I imagine one would meet if you traveled to the outer providences of Canada during the 3 weeks when they have summer.
@ Troy – I haven’t heard from Crucial in a while, so I assume Doc got ‘im. That’s what happened to Phah.
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Medical Fact.
times like these i wish we were not anon, so I knew if i was sitting next to you during kol nidreh this year
and we could giggle while checking out the rebbetzin and the other hot maidles