Vegas
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Thursday, November 17, 2011
Silk Yankee Caps Are Not A Sign of Class
Perhaps we’ve become desensitized to just how odious D.J. iPod culture has ravaged our civilization like rampaging crypto-gay gladiator movies released on 11/11/11.
D.J. Assmunch wastes his salad years chasing ephemera under the rubric of accomplishment. Loud lights and noises as a substitute for thought.
Amanda pumps up and tones out, but rock solid abs eventually fade. What’s left?
Time, like the honey badger, don’t give a shit.
I’mma get a coffee.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011He Likes Turtles
Meh, I’d probably give Dave a nottadouche and a Halloween pass if he wasn’t drinking Bud.
Perfect enhanced Cleavite taut suckle tatt-free Sharona pushes the limits of Female Groin Shave Revelation to their flux capacity, and earns an approving nod from the gods.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011Q-Bert Is Not a Gangsta, He Just Plays One in Vegas
Kimberly’s soft fuzzy sweaters are hypothetically too magical to touch.
Between six pound watch, junk-on-boobs violence, and the lime-green leopard speedos, Spandex Guy is outta there.
Thursday, October 20, 2011“Pectatts and Boobies”
Interestingly, “Pectatts and Boobies” was also the working title for John Denver’s first country album.
Monday, October 17, 2011Lunchy Says “Groooo!!!!” To the Gorgeous Ladies of Middle Management
Trojan Pec for the societal loss.
Thursday, September 15, 2011Lancelot Boy Melvin Pretends to Get Lucky For a Nearby Camera
Aging but still super tasty moms like Stephanie are what Lancelot Boy Melvin does best.
And by does best, I mean stops them briefly for a picture. Then grunts “Grahhh” at them.
Then points to his crotch.
Then flings poo.
Then applies for work at the post office.
Thursday, September 15, 2011The Lancelot Boyz Speak to Perfectly Hot PTA Mom Vanessa in Monosyllabic Grunts
Muggghhhhh….
Fwe?….
Ohhh Ohhh Ohhh Ohhh…
Mmmmm….
Grrrrooooo?
Nooo Grooooo.
Grahhhhhhh.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011HCwDB of the Month Voting Still Open
I’m keepin’ the voting open another day, as this is a tough, epic battle between choadosity and hottboobery, and wanna let all ‘bag hunters have their say.
Get yer vote in if you haven’t already.
Lets figure out which of those schroadal violations deserves advancement in our process of collective mock.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011The Porny Smell of Poo, Sweat and Tears
Sometimes the wafting, fetid odor of late summer desert skankton and future avoidance in the form of techno music and alcohol combines to singe the inner framework of the nostril like so much putty on a garden hose.
The lone dwarf dances by the red curtain.
And the dream logic reveals the truth.
Thursday, September 8, 2011Land Speedo
Public Speedo = Autobag. No exceptions, even if you’re otherwise an unassuming version of noted thespian Patrick Wilson.
Gypsy Rose may not have visible face offered for our collective and shallow judging process, but she does offer body curve.
As I was watering the alpacas this morning out by the water vapor processors, I asked a nearby lemur what he thought of Gypsy Rose’s succulent curves.
But lemurs can’t talk.
Silly me.
