The Drifter
I’m off to the yearly Sunset Junction Festival in Silver Lake to observe the excess overflow of Emobags and Hipsterbags colliding like so many supercharged douche particles, like so much late 1990s quaffed post-grunge detritus.
But mainly I’m going to enjoy the amazing sounds of “Blonde Redhead” on the main stage at 7:30.
But before I head off, I must mock at least one more ‘bag and lust after his hottie’s boobage. For it is my compunction. My raison d’scrotre.
And so it falls to you, Jersey choadwank, to rile the bile before I head off. Your awkward gait and ginormous head pour douche-drinks in the metaphysical scroadwank singles bar of my soul. You are douche, and so I mock.
Sexy S&M taskmaster on the left has that unconventional cuteness that makes me want to get spanked with ruler before I fondle her shoes and cry “Mama!” like a newborn New Zealand lamb. I will love her pixelated form for a solid twenty more seconds, and then I’m out the door to spot real life HCwDBs and enjoy some good music.
