Vegas
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Monday, May 2, 2011
Loafie’s Choice
Quality ass pear?…
Lime green Ed Hardy douche cap?…
Quality ass pear?…
Lime green Ed Hardy douche cap?…
Loafie must choose.
Thursday, April 21, 2011The Dude on the Left is a Shmuck
Sure I could try to come up with a clever name for this Vegasy meatball of toeshmeggery. But it’s early morn on a strangely chilly Thursday in the City of Angels. So the name is not clever. But it is true.
And your humble narrator sits at his computer. And scratches scruff softly.
And knows that little else needs to be said except that the dude on the left is a shmuck.
But Ginger is giving me the fabled “Mayan Eye of Coitus.” And some mornings, that’s enough.
Thursday, April 14, 2011Captain Lubing and Tracey Gnaw
Captain Lubing is obsessed with his own personal White Whale. Which is actually the strange alien disc hiding in his rayon shorts.
The tatt asks: “Why you?” Lubing? Because the world needs ditch diggers, too.
Tracey Gnaw was once a sweet, firm yet softly taught in a quarter bounce way. Now, after sailing with the Captain, she’s acquired arm scurvy.
Need to suck on more Bud Light Limes, there, Tracey.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011Granpa Chin
For the ladies with daddy complexes.
Grandaddy complexes.
Oh Statuesque Cheryl.How you would break me into a wimpering sobbing hallucinogenic puddle with the touch of one soft, pillowed boobosity. I would read you old Dickens novels by flashlight in a double sleeping bag, and then quietly hump your purse while you sext with the bartender at Tao.
And I see you too, perfect Brunette Jacqueline. Your suckle thigh milkshake body taut is a feast for the eyes and your mamms slay polar bears.
Thank you for being you. Just please don’t speak. It adds nothing.
No. really. Don’t speak. Don’t. Speak.
Dammit.
No, I do not know where Tony went with the Bud Light Lime you were drinking.
Monday, April 11, 2011Vince the Archetypal Vegas Douchecrud
Oh yes, young reader.
They are still out there.
Still bothering Cury Pool Ladies with primal grunts of “Yo!” And “You work out?”
And they still must be bagged and tagged for the greater good of the human experience.
EDIT: Okay, that may be a dude on the left, but this sampling of vegas uberdouchosity is too bizarre not to leave up. View at your own risk.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011“Asswipius Douchevegas” In Mid Mating Call
Rare do we witness an act of bleething occuring in the wild, yet here we find an excellent documentation of just such a happenstance.
Observes as the species of “Asswipius Douchevegas” engages in the rare Vegas Pool Bleething. An act of douchery so potent, that only moments later, full Bleeth in the Hott Chick has taken place.
Monday, March 14, 2011Creepy Vegas Hippie and Cocktail Carrie Voted
Creepy Vegas Hippie and off-duty Cocktail Carrie took time out of their busy schedules of slow and pointless wander to come by and vote in the HCwDB of the Month.
Have you voted yet?
Thursday, March 10, 2011Who Wears Short Shorts?
Kelly’s body, enhanced by nature and abs workout DVDs is a glorious apple tree of poochable natural incongruity, and whilst I ponder the genetic variances and impossibilities of evolution, I crack hump a tree stump, then dance the watusi sadly.
Monday, March 7, 2011Pinky Tuskadoucho
If there’s one way to demonstrate masculinity to a gaggle of bikini hotts, it ain’t pink hat tilt, and it ain’t pink wristdanna.
It’s pink dog-tags.
Thursday, March 3, 2011Mr. Unclean Loves The Pear
Once, when I was a kid of about twelve or thirteen, living with my parents in Boston, it was a particularly hot summer.
One day, in between summer camp and the beginning of eighth grade, a giant waterbug that looked like a Pumpy Cockroach flew into my bedroom window.
It landed on my one prized “adult” possession of the time that my mom had let me keep: my poster of Carol Alt.
The pumpy cockroach went “Bzzzz.”
And then, strangely in its falsetto Vincent Price insect voice, it said, “I love the assss pearrrrr.”
Then it buzzed back out of my window and into the night.
