Friday Thoughts and Links
Sneery self portraits.
Still out there.
Still deserving of a flyswatter to the face.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Max?
Google comes up with a new ad strategy: Google Boobs
An eagle-eyed ‘bag tagger captured this late night informercial warning. So true, Late Night Informercial. So true.
Former something or other from the Paris Hilton/Lindsey Lohan mid 00s celebutard era, Perez Hilton, is writing a children’s book. I’m not sure why this is relevant. Lets just move on.
It’s a pity The Phantom is so small. But at least he’s a real man. Unlike Aquaman.
The Miami Douchehearts. WARNING: No Hot Chick and plenty of douche-ass-reveal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Bored this weekend? There’s always Tron Jeremy. Not exactly a cure for boredom. Kind of like Utah.
A fan of Angry Birds? Turns out they’re real.
But you are not here for creepy real world Angry Birds. You are here for Pear:
Firm muscles of haunch on a Friday eve. You have nothing to complain about. Go forth. Go forth, multiply and imbibe.
I’d kill for a chance at digging Ponytail Volley Pear!
I never knew Bud Bundy had a kid.
I would stare at the pink boy thing in Roger Ebert’s mute butt hair to get a chance to beat Uncle Max to death with the Phantom’s small penis for the opportunity to sniff the angry bird that bathed in the dangerous douche water that the guy with the Afflicted shirt and Tron Jeremy squirted out of Volleyball Pear’s sweet ass with a pooch punt.
Ron Jeremy isn’t getting any prettier, is he? Even the Phantom wouldn’t trade places for that hogleg. Geez, dude, mix in a salad once in a while, would ya?
That pear looks awfully familiar. Oh, the deep knee bends are beyond delightful…
Bong!
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I mean, Boing!
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I mean, Bong
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I mean, Boing!
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I mean, Bong!
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I mean, Boing!
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Yeah, I definately mean , Boing!
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Rev and Vin. Excellent adds to our sacred scrolls for this Friday!
For those interested in the reproductive behaviours of the common douche, a pack of ‘bags were filmed in the wild recently. You may find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=G-wGbCEaCmE#at=167
^Funny, I think Jonezy dropped that link yesterday. The music and narration are the best parts. And of course, “The Bronado”.
Maybe Professor Chriss Angel can wipe those smug looks off their faces.
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Too lazy to do html tagging: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYlNi5pDeDU&feature=related
First and foremost thanks To Vin D for bringing the goods today, Boing!!!! is right.
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Hmmmmm!!!!!!!!!! Ponytail Volley Pear and Tanline Pear from previous thread.
@ Et Tu Douche
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Nice job recently reminiscing about the glory days of B’s v Habs . I hate to admit it, but I was around for Bobby Orr’s most-fucking-awesome-alltime-flying-through-the-air-goal to win the last Bruins’ Cup , many moons ago.
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That said, if I was in Vegas , I’d take the Ducks to come out of the West , believe it or not. They’re out at 28-1 and nice $50 spot would net you 14hund if they can trip up the Wings.
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Teemu Selane is my favorite non-Briun. At his age he’s still mixing it up and scoring. Teemu’s hatred for the crosstown rival Kings is legendary. I never miss a Kings v Ducks game on the toob
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The other night he wanted to go with Clifford, a noted heel and soft faced tomato can, but unfortunately Brookbank decided to slap him around so Teemu had to throw with Brad Richardson, a bad ass. He held his own.
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Teemu’s ‘Nuck Adventure (at the 2:00 mark) :
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@ Vin
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“hate to admit it, but I was around for Bobby Orr’s most-fucking-awesome-alltime-flying-through-the-air-goal to win the last Bruins’ Cup , many moons ago.” I must be one old motherfuccker too. I got that picture framed somewhere in my house right now. Gotta look for it. Signed by the legend hisself too. That’s when I watched the greatest sport on Earth before that fuccen buttwipe Gary fuccen Bettman screwed everything up. I used to be able to tell you who the fourth line RW of all the IHL and AHL teams for each pro club before he took over. Cam, Borque, “Chief” Bucyk, Lemelin, etc used to be one of my favorite teams. I still remember that one playoff game when Cam had a hat trick against NJ and he beat the shit out of Claude Lemeiux in the same game. Good times. Now, can’t stand the NHL. Moving the fuccen goalies out, eliminating the center red, more pussies with visors, expanding to places that have no business having teams just makes me wretch. I’ll watch college hockey before I tune in a “pro” game anymore.
Vin & Bunsen,
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Add me to the list of old dudes.
I watched Orr and Esposito play at the old Buffalo Memorial Auditorium.
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Although a Sabres fan, Derek Sanderson was my childhood hero. He was a filthy bastard and quite the stud.
Ahh, the classics.
@ Hermit
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You’re a lucky bastard too. Got to watch The French Connection play together? I had to wait years (1984 exactly) to even start to be able to watch decent hockey in my old stompin’ grounds.
@ Vin, Doc & Hermit
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I miss Derek Sanderson’s color commentary when he & Fred were doing there thing. Speaking of Sabres Miller v McGuire
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Nothing was better then waking up Saturday morning grabbing the Herald and or the Globe to peruse the “transactions” in the sports section to see what visiting Adams div team called up a goon from the minors in anticipation of the Saturday 1PM matinee games. I especially like when the Nord’s and their crazy coach Michel Begeron rolled into town. Also a pregame feast of Steak tips at 4’s was a must.
Bunsen, Et Tu,
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Yeah, The French Connection was unbelievable, they quickly made the expansion Sabres respectable.
Boston dominated in the day, Sanderson was Phil Esposito’s back-up center, a true bad ass with long hippie hair and a porn mustache. He would drop gloves with the opposing team’s biggest defenseman with no hesitation.
That was Old Time Hockey, no helmets, hell Gump Worsley was still in goal for Minnesota with no face mask!
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Damn, I’m old.
@Vin, Doc, Hermit, Et Tu
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Grade 2. The good old days when you could throw rocks at chicks and throw the school bully into a can of garbage. All clothes were cool. Even your Speedy Gonzalez shirt with a mustard sweater and green nylon dress pants and high heel black on burgundy shoes. Dad had mutton chops to go with his Mercury Montego, purple blazer, and brown pants. He also grew his hair long because your older babysitter told him he looked like Glen Campbell. But pops thought himself as more of a Clapton man and bought a guitar at the fire sale after Melody Music burned. Fucking Layla ringing in your ears as you listened to the Jackson 5 on the Am dial on those sweltering summer days before anyone bought air conditioners for anything. The Russians were still the damn commies and the pinkos were going to be coming for the Summit Series, Carol King was blasting the charts with Tapestry still but you couldn’t get into that kind of music yet. Once in a while you could sneak a look into Dad’s stash of Playboys and peek at Elke Summer and the ads for Kenwood and Rotel Stereo systems that cost almost as much as a new Toyota Corolla at $1,395 because they had the new Quad 8 Track technology and FM. The Japs were still the fucking Japs and all your uncles who lived through the war were at all the large and small family gatherings that at that time included every person you knew outside of school and neighbourhood friends. You could stay out till dark because there were no perverts around and your parents wanted you outside all the time. And Bridget in grade one who lived three doors down let you touch her peepee and stick the tip of your finger into her dry pre-pre-pubescent love hole behind the arena across the street. Oh Bridget you turned out to be a beauty when you came back to visit when your Dad Ron Ward was in the winter of his career and bought the two Dairy Queens in town before going to the AHL and WHL. He was a good Leaf and Canuck for a few years but ya know he had the bad knees like Cam and Bobby. I think they had gout from eating to much chowda at the old oyster place in the Olde downtown near the wharf. I have to go. My inner child is making me weep, or maybe its the leek chopping for Tuesdays latkes. Sons. Go Canucks.
Rev Chad, salty tears.
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Mom would leave you in the station wagon, (no car seats) while she went shopping and the f@#kin’ child services weren’t waiting to arrest her, (she secretly wished you’d be kidnapped by Gypsys.) Micheal Jackson was still black (and alive), We still had a huge wood-paneled black and white Magnavox ® TV, the cat would sleep on top of it ’cause it was so warm. Network TV only, Howard Cosell was doing Monday Night Football, Car air conditioners were huge after-market things mounted under the dashboard.
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I never met Bridget, but I’m sure she would have let me touch her pee pee too.
Miami Douchehearts must all be Sigma Phi Epsilon pledges. Their frat pin…is a heart…and they are known as “fraternity with a heart-on.”
GOOGLE Boobs is actually more entertaining than Ass-Pear today, and that’s saying a lot.
I think one might remove the ponytail and play pin the tail on the ass-pear. But, I’m sure someone has already printed and distributed this party game. If not, maybe Party Pieces in Britain could pick it up…
Caps up 2-0 on los Rangers. Might actually get to the second round this year.
Looks oddly like Seth Green.
@Charles Erasmus Douchewin
Well done with link. I do not want to admit, but it appears Toronto graces the setting once again for the Douche habitat. Oh, le sigh.
This thread has been checked into the boards. I approve. As for the B’s, I can see them playing in the Finals just as easily as I can see them being bounced in the first round. They’re just that kinda team. I would accept a first round loss only if Chara decides to decapitate a Hab. P.K. Subban would be the preferred choice.
I peed in a Zamboni once.
An sich n cooler Kommentar, aber kannst du spater n wenig detaillierter sein?
I peed on Zambrano once…I was drunk
@German Gambling Site 10:16a,
I don’t go to your roulette table and tell you how to spin it, do I?
I’ll provide more details when I’m good and ready. Are we das square?
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@Hockey buffs, I’m going to a playoff game tonight. If you’re a Kings fan be prepared to cry some tears, which will quickly turn into ice, because the arena is like cold and stuff. But if you’re watching the game at home prepare to just cry normal tears, because your team will be the one that loses. (I’m still working on my hockey taunts.)
@ 10:16,
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I love Spleen Roulette. It’s an exciting, albeit dangerous game of chance, where four to six players cut a deck of playing cards. The two players with the lowest cards have their spleens removed without anesthesia. The remaining players then wager on which one will have the highest hemoglobin count after a two hour period.
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You can also double down on kidneys, but from there it gets complicated.
@ Mockey Puck
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I am indeed crying salty fuccen tears over the hockey playoffs not for your Sharks shoddy play in losing to the Kings this evening, but for my hopeless Bruins.
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Down 2-0 and heading to Montreal is an inenviable spot to be in. I guess I’ll get to root for the Ducks after all, eh?
@Vin, I’m done with hockey after that rediculousness. To add insult to injury some SharkFan put a traffic cone on my trunk and I drove with it for two miles, until an older couple drove up next to me and told me about it. Thanks a lot fellow fan. It must have been that jackass from the video we had on here awhile back. Mr. Black and Teal. I’m strictly baseball from here on out. I bid you adieu hockey. We had some good times, but you’re too cold and quite frankly way too expensive, much like first dates with a lot of hotts featured on this site. I guess that’s why Hockey has Periods much like the hotts featured on this site. In conclusion of my sports rant, the Sharks got pwned and I got coned. That’s enough signs for me to hang up the rally towel for awhile.
Volley Pear puts the Maximus in Gluteus Maximus! Dayumn that’s intimidating!