Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Fwippy McJohnson Goes Full Herpster, Scores Kelly
Looks like Sears had a sale on wrinkled herpster ties. Two for $9.99.
Kelly has the smirking attitude of suburban New England mixed with delightful boobie suckle leg chomp potential. For lo and hark!, Kelly is that rarest of New England woodland creatures: A hottie from rural Massachusetts.
Joanna Largechest forlornly chugs her drink after seeing Fwippy pursue the other Hotties at prom
Coed skyrise dorms at UMass Amherst are great equalizers for the herpsters. The jocks are working out, the smarter kids are in the libraries or >>gasp<< classes and the pot crowd hides behind closed doors
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All Herpster needs to do is roam the halls looking for an open door, literally and figuratively
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Of this Fwippy is hip to
Fwippy’s night ends with an empty wallet, blue balls and Kelly laughing with her besties about how easy it was to get him to buy them drinks all night.
Fwippy was only able to get close to her because he shoe-horned into the conversation he was a “Twilight” fan! His night will end with a mediocre quality testicular evacuation into a Puffs Ultra to the Twilight DVD box cover.
Ah yes, the modern douchebag. Bedhead, tablecloth shirt with a tie and blazer, and goddam metrosexual skinny jeans. Throw in that smug pout and almost unholy pear fondle on Mena Suvari hott and you have the common early millenium douchetaint. I want to rub my armpits on his face. Somebody get that kid a phuckin comb already.
I can only imagine the scene in Northampton, with all the hott foreign exchange Smithies runnin’ around looking for lust in all the wrong places, eagerly awaiting weekend road tripping dudes/bros/fratbags from Dartmouth, Williams College or Hamilton. The dorms (actually palatial estates) all gussied up for the Saturday night soiree, the girls freshly shorn, and the drunken bacchanalia that is about to ensue early into the morn. I could see how the Herpster would gravitate to Western MA. Hanging out in an Amherst dive trying to impress a lady Lord Jeff with his theories on Picasso’s Blue period and all of it’s societal sadness. Living in Belchertown on the outskirts of Amherst cause the rent is cheap. Stray to close to the Umass scene and mack on Kelly from somewhere in the Berkshires, and one is likely to get beat on by a Sully and or a Fitz from Framingham. Western MA gals are laid back and more fun then their sisteren further up the pike on the other side of 495. The play in the mountains & streams during the summers, run cross country or play field hockey in the fall to keep taut. Winter time rolls around and partying in the woods around a big ass fire is second nature with nary a complaint. They are hardy lass’s with natural curves and solid country raised fun bags. Go back to where you came Fwippy and take your ilk with you. Do not spoil the Kelly’s of Western MA for they are easily seduced, gullible one might say.
I was in Boston for four hours due to a delay of my flight with Mrs. Kroeger. I loved the place. We took a cab with a crooked driver from whatever the name of the airfield is, Logan?, and went straight to the Union Oyster House at which we got drunk at the oyster bar and ate all kinds of shit right near that there lobster tank across from the old stone and hewn wood bar for the duration. I found the people quite charming. But other than that and Vermont and New Hampshire ski towns I don’t know fuck all about New England except Barry Manilow spent a fucking melancholy weekend there. I do remember back in the eighties that there was one thing on the mind of all New Englanders:
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http://sexwithsue.typepad.com/.a/6a00d834d9f18d69e20115703840aa970c-pi
why the fuck do I always click on the Rev’s links ? I never learn.
I give ‘im a notta.
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You guys’ll get this more than I did. It was explained to me that these guys are from Emerson.
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Muskrat Demi. I remember that issue of Oui. Seemed perfectly normal back then.
so are we gonna get some weeklies? monthlies?
Rupert nervously waits for the right moment to tell his date that he’s actually a rabid sausage sucker.
I’m all ’bout Joanna Largechest
Kelly is, to use the parlance of our times, “wicked hot.”
Fwippy is checking for breath mints.