Thursday, June 17, 2010
Happy Belated Bloomsday
June 16th was Bloomsday. I missed it yesterday. But, hells, why not, we’re celebrating it today.
So to honor the great James Joyce and his brilliant novel Ulysses, HCwDB style, we shall mock these douchebags and lust these hotts in an Irish brogue:
That’s no bag o’ shwag, me ladies!
Ye sure look lovely upon this tender mornin’!
Spin us a tale of love, would ya?
Of slender legs and giggles and puddin’ in the aft,
For those two boggers ain’t go not clackers, if ye know what I mean.
No lads should to look like such douchebags.
You fine lasses should be spinnin’ the poof juice and havin’ a laugh like.
Not spinning the top o’ schnozzlewoppers with them two skallywag topper thicko shitemonkeys!
That was for you, Mr. Joyce.
Is this a Vegas baby-shower for black/yellow-dress blond holding the UBC? I’m just sayin’.
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I’d still dip my balls in her UBC, though.
Given the choice this guy chooses
To drink that glass o’ her menstrual juices
If it would help me finesse
My head up sparkle dress
Unless of course she adamantly refuses
I dinnae wot’s in their Guinness, but brunette luv wit’ th’ blue dress ‘as grown a t’ird arm, wot?
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(Yeah, I know I butchered the holy hell out of it.)
@DB1,
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I am in a meeting trying to stifle my laughs. Nice post. Shitemonkeys!
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(Sent from my dingleberry)
Wot?!? ‘Tis be no love for th’ chauffer in th’ background? Why, I s’pose he’s a right bastard for jump’n up like an imbicile, now i’n’t he? Serves th’ ol’ pecker right! Get back ‘n your carriage, boy!
Buffalo Beast steadies himself as he reaches under the bed for the Uzi placed “Corleone style” by Pink Blonde’s vindictive step-father hours earlier when the suitcase of unmarked drachmas was exchanged
I don’ta know about ya laddies, but that we bruentte lass on the left is a givin me a stiffy!
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I don’t know how to type Gaelic.
Gælic. It’s pronounced “guy lick.”
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Yes, please.
The guests at Mike & Chad’s hotel-room party put the Wii Gangbang on “pause” and snap a quick picture before things get too sloppy to recognize their semen-covered faces.
So, the chicks get dressed up and the douchebags dress like, well, douchebags. Nice.
Ahh my mocking lads, the lass’s dresses are a might wee which is fine with thee. Makes it easy to get on thy knee to kiss the blarney Vee.
There once was a douchebag named Gary,
Who rented a room to make merry.
When asked by a fine Persian
“Why the female aversion?
He said, “What’d you expect? I’m a fairy!”
Holy crap sparkly blue dress brunette is perfect (face, muscle tone, cans, skin, etc., 10s across the board). Not front and center, but cant help but think she is Hall of Hot material nonetheless.
“I got laid on James Joyce’s grave
I was hoping his genius would rub off on me
But all I got was a kick in the head
From the caretaker who discovered me
The Swiss lady jumped up in alarm
Put her clothes on instantly
I got laid on James Joyce’s grave
I’ve never been the same, Lord have mercy on me…”
If by “brilliant novel, Ulysses,” you mean “impenetrable exercise in literary wankery,” I agree with you 100%. And this is coming from a guy who likes Pynchon. A lot.
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That said, I suspect several of these fine ladies are quite penetrable.
Hotts take th’ high road
And choads take th’ low road
And we’ll get t’ Dublin before ya!
And then blow the choadwanks to fair Kingdom Come, IRA style, eh lads?
Bloomsday…..aren’t they supposed to show us their bloomers?
Five hotts didst gather inside a small room
For ‘ponst pussy they fancied to consume
But douchebags didst enter
Like nuclear winter
And cockkblockked the saphic flower’s bloom.
Low lie hott’s field’s of ass n’ thigh.
Is there anywhere Mark Mothersbaugh won’t show up to promote the new album?
@ Mr. White
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Totally agree with you. I used to use “Ulysses” to help me get to sleep at night. I would repeatedly club myself over the head with it when I would have insomnia. It usually took less than 10 whacks for me to get to sleep. I knew we shared something else in common besides hard core science and Pynchon. Yeah, Pynchon is a wordy bastard but he’s go nothin’ on Joyce.
Why do I expect to hear “Thiss room is justh FABULOUSSSS! La Quinta really outdid themselvz thiss time!” from the douche in front?
I don’t see Irish people. I do see Boobies galore and a homo in baby blue douche shirt. IRA Douche Aggie should bomb him. He is from the north if anywhere the dirty Orangeman.
Are We Not Men?
We Are Douch-O!
The Boss just invoked Joyce? Oh No he dih’nt!
I must disagree with Mr. White and Doc Bun; Ulysses is very much dialed in on our struggles here. To wit:
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“The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.“….of Axe.
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“If others have their will Ann hath a way“….I think we all agree we’d like to nail Anne Hathaway. In her butthole.
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“The mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious“….I’ll let Troy handle that one. I’ve also learned to mock the Douche, not his father. Because then you’re just a FatherMocker.
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OK Joyce has nothing to do with us. And his prose is harder than Chinese arithmetic.
Irish lassies tend to have thick ankles, a penchant for beer, ruddy complexions and actually look like Lassie. I don’t see any Irish bleeths here.
“They’re gone”
as they say in ireland i believe “them gals r feckin mint like!”
I was going to say something about the hot Asian in black, but the sound of my intestines herniating into my scrotum distracted me a might bit.
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You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.
And here’s a picture of it.
Somehow, each one of those girls is exactly my ‘type’.
Jimmy was visiting his elderly neighbor Seamus one afternoon.
“Jimmy, me boy, would ya roon upstairs, and get me a pair o’ me slippers, would ya?
“Of course, Seamus, it’s an honor.”
Jimmy goes upstairs, and as he’s walking towards Seamus’ bedroom, he peeks into the guest bedroom, which happens to have Seamus’ two bonnie blond lassie grand daughters laying in bed together. Naked. Kindly touching each other, very lightly.
Jimmy says, “Girls, your granddaddy sent me up here with instructions to fuck the both of yoons!” Jimmy lied.
“Jimmy! Who do ya think your kiddin here? We know better than that!” they cried in unison.
“Oh yeah? I’ll prove it” says Jimmy. “Hey, Seamus, did you say both of them, or what?”
“Jimmy, ya big baboon. Of course, both of them! What’s the point of fuckin only one of ’em?!?!”
i promise to drink twice as much on St. Paddy’s Day to make up for my lack of knowledge in James Joyce references.
actually, i will drink twice as much as i usually do simply because of this pic.
Ah, well, more like a “Boom-chicka, Boom-chicka. BOOM” day when ya’ come right down to it.
Or “Chickie-chickie-Bang-Bang.”
Boom.
As described in the Domesday Book.
Amyl Nitrante is a helluva drug.
Nitrate you idiot^ good night…
Guess which one jerks off by himself a lot.
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