Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Game of Martinis: Homie Greg in the Land of the Inflated Melons

photo (30)

Angry Cersei Lannister will definitely be teaching Greg about how to play the Game of Thrones.

And by Game of Thrones, I mean Game of Overpriced Martinis.

Seriously, if that show introduces any more hanging subplots, I’m gonna cut off a nipple.

# posted by douchebag1
12:00 pm May, 8 Wheezer said...

Geoff Taint smiles in hopes that these chicks haven’t noticed the hatchet job he has done to his old band, Queensrÿche, and his new version of it.

12:07 pm May, 8 Wheezer said...

Is that a blonder, paler Jessica Burciaga on the right? Say it ain’t so…..

12:14 pm May, 8 Magnum Douche P.I. said...

Do we have a Hall of Horrible Boob Jobs here? Cause if so, we have a new entrant.

1:39 pm May, 8 Vin Douchal said...

Call me a homo if you must , but the chick on the right is a little gross and the chick on the left looks like she just barfed so , again call me a homo , but she’s also a little gross

.

No homo

2:55 pm May, 8 Douchble Helix said...

You’re a mo, but I agree about them two. Four?

3:03 pm May, 8 I R A Darth Aggie said...

Maybe that’s why she’s angry? someone cut off her nipple?

4:22 pm May, 8 DoucheyWallnuts said...

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop ogling ugly bottle blonde dames with big, fake, hideous breasts.

6:46 pm May, 8 Morbo said...

You can actually see the silent pleas for approval radiating out of Samantha on the right. It’s a goddamn tragedy, really.

In a past life I bet she was a charming, pretty Southern gal with a great smile. Played high school basketball (wasn’t very good), dated the quarterback and was a cheerleader at her suburban Dallas high school. Could’ve had a nice life going to UT-Austin, bedding down with a former athlete/future insurance agent, popping out 2.5 kids and living a quiet suburban life in Plano. She’d be the hot mom her teenaged son’s friends secretly fantasized about, and a swell enough gal that her husband’s friends would all be jealous.

Unfortunately, she had a lovely singing voice and was within driving distance of an “American Idol” tryout. She went, got a golden ticket to Hollywood but washed out on the third day of auditions, a mere 72 slots shy of making the main show.

Before heading home she hooked up with a sleazy agent who, between lines of coke, convinced her she needed “a look” that included a boob job and lip injections. He had “a guy” who could do it cheap, which means he could do it badly. She went up one cup size too many and the collagen distorted her naturally gorgeous smile.

The agent dumped her a month later, after violating both her soul and her body. By now it’s been almost a year since her Idol auditions and she’s laid down some roots. She has friends, like Gretchen here, and a decent enough job waiting tables at a Hollywood diner. It’s in an OK part of town and the tips are good. She even sees a few celebrities from time to time.

Samantha, though, knows she’s lost her innocence. She heads to the clubs maybe trying to find Mr. Right, maybe just trying to forget about things for a while. She’s wounded, but still not jaded and sort of naive.

The photographer taking this picture is kind of cute. Maybe he could be the guy to turn her life around?

She gives her cutest smile, the one that made all the boys back in Carroll swoon. Only now it reeks of desperation. Instead of “Hi, you look nice,” it comes across as, “Hi. I’m young and desperate. Look at my boobs. They’re big and nice … aren’t they? Don’t you like them? Please look at them and tell you like them. Please tell me I’m pretty. Please. Please?”

The photographer is, indeed, a decent enough guy. He makes some small talk and gets her phone number. They go out on a few dates, sleep together on the third one, and talk about moving in together. But it’s just talk. She’s too needy to form any sort of long-lasting relationship. He bails after six weeks.

Once again she’s left alone in the world. Too proud to admit defeat and move back home, too scared to let her old friends and family see what she’s become even if she could go back. So it’s another night, another club, another day at the diner.

Hollywood is built on dreams. Maybe one day hers will come true. Until then, let’s keep the coffee topped off, sweet tits.

7:30 pm May, 8 creature said...

…the short answer, morbo, strippers!

6:13 am May, 9 DarkSock said...

He wanted to marry them both but they cantaloupe…

8:19 am May, 9 Douchble Helix said...

Morbo rules!

7:06 pm May, 12 Stephanie said...

2.5 boobs

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