Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Buzzy Fails to Appreciate Marissa’s Taut and Perfect Sundials
For that, for the silly tatts, and for the receding porcupine hair, Buzzy is to be mocked posthaste.
Marissa is to be softly coddled with eggshell powder and buttgrabby grab. Purely in the interests of science and archeology.
Agreed, Marissa is smoking hot and appears all-natural!
Classic example of a hot chick with the obligatory douche….oh how we wept!
Cockk – ring bikins are always in fashion.
I like how her bikini draws my attention to all the places it would have been drawn to anyway.
What? No comments?
I would have commented earlier, but my hands were like, you know, busy doing something.
Hall of Hott?
That is Audrina
back from a long vaca
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Mexico then N’Awlins Jazzfest. Plenty of hotts were seen, marginal amount of douches.
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Perhaps the most entertaining part was asking our concierge to coordinate strippers for our day of yachting. When we arrived and found them not included we asked why- he said, “oh, you were serious about that?”
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He promptly employed his local resources and in 30 minutes had a water taxi bringing 2 strippers out to our location in the bay. However, we soon came to realize these were not strippers at all, but rather run of the mill local prostitutes.
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The LOLz continued throughout the day as they spoke no English and we spoke no Spanish, and with wives aboard, no one had the gall to take them below deck. As we encouraged them to behave as strippers, ie removing clothing and gesticulating and such, we became more and more aware that these were one trick ponies- or burros as you will.
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Best $1000 we spent on the whole trip…
Is he punching her boobs? That’s not cool. Also he got those tattoos to detract from his underdeveloped chestal area. Not working douche. Hey, at least he has aa boner though. He got one thing right.
The only thing that could improve Marissa’s bikini is if those were glowing starbursts and it was on the floor next to my bed lighting the way to paradise.
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And thank you for the slow-moving vehicle triangle on the wide load in the background. I would have crashed right into that.
Continued from my Meatwad post:
Buzzy slouched in the pool chair, the never ending buzz of his four-day binge playing tricks with his admittedly simple mind. He held the plastic cup of Corona Lite on his stomach, the beer warming in the mid-day sun. He simply couldn’t drink any more. “Couldn’t f*ck anymore either,” he smiled to himself. The bitches at Club Zone certainly put out. He’d gotten laid every night, more sex than he’d had in the past, well, he couldn’t remember just how long. Hard to get laid when you lived with your mom and her step-dickhead.
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“Chicks are so f*cking simple,” he thought, running his hands through his hair, “show ‘em the tats, crunch the abs, look over the top of your glasses, and they’re f*cking creaming themselves.”
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Tonight he would have Marissa. He’d eyed her from the first day he’d arrived at the club. Her tight ass, firm tits that she loved to tease him with in her bikini or whatever she wore to the clubs. She’d teased him every night, kept him from going over to the strip with her you-can-f*ck-me-if-you-want-to looks. But she’d always disappeared before the night was over. And so he’d settled for another scank, usually one that was bright orange or covered with tats like him. They filled the club and pool like locusts, their huge sunglasses making them look like the insects he heard buzzing in the palms above his head. “Where was she from?” He couldn’t remember. In fact, he didn’t even know what her room number was. Or her phone number.
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“Yo, Melissa, what’s your f*cking room number?” he asked, turning to where she had been sunning herself in the chair several down from him. But she wasn’t there anymore. He scanned the pool area, his alcohol-fogged mind trying to make out the faces of the women around the pool. Nothing but orange covered bleeth and bros as far as the eye could see. He checked his watch. Almost 4:30.
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“Bitch better be in my room spreading her legs right now,” He grumbled, struggling to rise from his chair. “Two dollar shots. Who the f*ck makes money with two dollar shots,” he asked himself. “F*ck if I care.”
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He stumbled across the warm concrete, wobbling past other tattooed and gels douchebags. His bladder was screaming at him, telling him he’d better find a toilet soon. “F*ck, I’ll use the pool if I have to” he laughed inside as the club music began to rage and drown out the sounds of the nearby waterfall, overwhelming the shouts and hoots of his fellow partiers.
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In front of him a huge, muscled guy whose name he couldn’t remember stood up and began fist pumping furiously to the music. His bros circled him and began frolicking madly. Buzzy closed in and tried to push his way past, his bladder telling him there was no time left.
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“S’cuse me,” he shouted to the massive guido, “I said F*CKING S’CUSE ME!” The man-boy turned to him, a smile on his face, his eyes flashing behind sunglasses, and in that moment his head evaporated in a cloud of red mist.
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Buzzy’s world went crimson as the spray coated his glasses and the massive corpse tumbled into the pool. The others chodes started laughing, thinking their bro had simply lost his footing. One by one red flowers blossomed among their tattoos and they dropped like teenagers dancing to the B-52’s “Rock Lobster”.
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“F*ck,” Buzzy mumbled, swatting at his sunglasses. “What the f*ck!”
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A flash of movement across the pool to his right caught his eye. A body was tumbling from the upper balcony, its arms pin wheeling until it hit the sidewalk below and crumpled. Buzzy looked back up to the balcony where a black faced man with what looked like Mickey Mouse ears was pumping his arms furiously, a claw hammer swinging wildly in each fist.
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“What the f*ck what the f*ck what the f*ck!” he screamed. He tried to run but lost his footing in the blood pooling beneath him and careened through a nearby pool table. Pain screamed at him from his knee but he ignored it. To his left he saw an orange figure in a bright pink Ed Hardy bikini flailing her arm desperately as a man who looked strangely like Dracula put his foot on her chest and raised an axe above his head.
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“NONONONONONONONO!” Buzzy screamed, his whole world coming apart around him. He dashed forward, running towards the main entrance. Bullets smacked into the stucco above his head sending small concrete missiles raining down on him. He turned the corner of the building just as a man in a light green rubber suit was reaching the bottom of the stairs. Buzzy tried to keep running but his legs would no longer obey him. He tumbled to the ground at the man’s feet, his bladder giving way as he rolled to his back and looked into the man’s face.
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“Club Zone.com indeed” the man said as he raised the spiked bat above his head. Buzzy raised him arm as well in a feeble attempt to ward off the blow. “Club Zone.com indeed.”
His shoulder looks like it is wearing red and blue 3D sunglasses.
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Now try and unsee it…without looking at Audrina.
Marissa’s quite the babe. Buzzy is quite repulsive. That’s all I got, except I enjoyed reading of Jonezy sailing exploits.
Yes, it is Audrina Patridge and her douchey brother whathisname. So this begs a question: Are “reality TV star” siblings more liable to be douches before or after people see their bro or sis on the tube?
@Doc B, 3:25p, that’s her brother? Then I take back what I said about the boner part being the only thing he did right. Awwwwwwwkward.
Nice to know that lean she-beef and porch-he-beef can be had from the same grass-fed cow.
She is lovely. I have nothing more.
He is crappy,she’s just putting up with it,I have nothing more.
That studly side of beef is flexing. What he is flexing, I don’t know. It certainly isn’t his left arm.
good call on the welding goggles.
they cover up her zombiestyle dead eyes and make the whole package a bit more appealing to the rest of the non-necrophiliac crowd.
Ashley looks barely 13. Just the way I like ’em. Er, that look 13, yeh, right. Tat boy is what is best described as “developmentally disabled”. There’s nothing anyone can do for him, nor would they want to even if they could. Hey Ashley want to touch my pet snake?
Why did the word “shartgobbler” just spring to mind when I saw that photo?