Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Bathrooms. Cell Phones. A Rhesus Monkey Flings Poo.
Boston University’s sophomore year keggers always end with Mindy in the bathroom with Brad, a bottle of hair gel, and a package of ass wipes on the floor.
And by ass wipes on the floor, I mean Brad.
And 2011’s Greatest Crisis of Modernity continues to haunt our society with steaming rhesus monkey poo fling.
Using a cellphone designed with the technology to take easy and accurate self portraits, Marcus instead aims the device at his buck toothed pipe insulator’s filthy bathroom mirror and snaps a photo of himself looking…at the cellphone.
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And somewhere in Wichita a portal to Hell tears through the fabric of space and time sucking a government sponsored day care and cheese distribution center into the Void.
Cool. I’m not the only one who brings a beer into the bathroom occasionally.
Bathroom sex can be very satisfying….for who among us hasn’t enjoyed the occasional orgasm whilst wrapped in the stench of their own waste products?
It looks like a hotel bathroom trashed by the who in 1976. Person Mindy deserves to be defiled in a cleaner bathroom.
What gets me is how Mindy feels the need to make sure that bottle of Michelob Ultra is represented in the shot.
I think it should be mandatory that you at least clean the mirror before taking a BCP. I mean c’mon show some respect for your viewing audience. Streaks depress the shit outta me. Which is why the mirror above my toilet never gets cleaned.
@Et Tu, its to indicate a party type atmosphere. “Wooooo! Look at me I’m having fun in a suburban bathroom in Bridgeport CT. Brad just took a dump and we’re about to go to Chili’s to get our Awesome Blossom on.” I know I for one am now seething with jealousy.
is that bathroom carpeted? well at least it is still cleaner than his genitals.
And to echo Scrotato Heads sentiments, you’ve got to be pretty retarded to screw up a BCP. Look in the mirror idiots or next tme get a friend to take it. No no don’t do either because then my life would be devoid of ass clowns to clown on. And its sort of my life’s blood.
she has the vapid smile of a E! late night travel show host.
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And the chin of gardening trowel.
@Nancy^
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Or just f*king take a f*cking self portrait directly from your f*cking iphone you f*cking motarded welfare rats! These are the same geniuses who after downloading the Google toolbar on their parent’s computer, always type “Google” into the Google toolbar search field, and when the search results show up, they click on the wrong Google link, get confused when they don’t see the cute Google logo artowrk, and then start all over again by closing the browser.
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Braintrusts.
gross. I just envisioned Nancy beer bonging bud light limes while taking a shit and staring at herself on her streak filled mirror.
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And then as the camera pans to the left, an apparition of the Rev permeates across the mirror (in a smoky haze no doubt).
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I think I drank too much this year already
@Jonezy, I do the beer in the shower thing on super crap days. It’s like wine in the bath but quicker and less pruney. And the mirror over the toilet was purely for comedic purposes unless you have one, then um its totally normal. Happy New Year, long time no see.
@Jonezy,
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If the right Rev were part of that nightmare, he would be seated on the toilet which would be overflowing, soaking the carpet and filling the room with the sweat tang of Brilcreem, Mescaline, and black mold. The mirror would be spread across his generous lap and he would be throwing toilet paper rolls and shampoo bottles at Nancy Drouche shouting “It’s f*cking carpet! You have to spill my shit in carpet? Goddamn Javelinas and their bouncing ball sacks messing up my sweet baby love shack! Go get the f*cking Dirt Devil I’ve got a stuck fudge nugget and it ain’t coming out by itself.”
If one looks closely, the disembodied head of Wise Black Howlin’ Man can be seen floating eerily in the background, staring through the frosted window.
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The Axe® body wash container and mildewed towel adorned with pubic hairs and skid marks, cast haphazardly on the floor, disgusts him as much as Mindy’s ass thrust excites him in an aesthetic and sexual context.
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He’s also fond of scones and herbal tea.
@Scrotato, Hahahaha, that is how I envision marital bliss with Rev Chad to be as well. And its why I have nothing but sympathy for the real Mrs. Rev Chad. That poor woman. I hope they at least have a pool boy.
This picture is great! It makes me want to go a big rubbery 16 incher that spirals around the bowl! I can put the shoe horn away!
And in the background, “Don’t It Make My Brown Eye Blue” plays on.
Jizzmopper.
This picture reminds me of this…
http://youtu.be/L3mea5dAkGE
@Capt JT 9:29a, I remember that from the outtakes of the Redman Toilet Bowl cleaner commercials. Miss that show. Why do the funny ones always have to go crazy? Maybe he’ll comeback one day but I don’t think you could recreate the genius of the original show.
For some reason I suspect her hair has the same texture as that found on the crest of a wooden horses on a merry-go-round.
Indeed ND, indeed 🙁
erm, ‘wooden horse’
Anyway you slice it, Dreuche, you’re still fantasising about co-habitation w/ the good Rev.
I can just see it now. Several of the long black hairs strewn over that bathroom floor will eventually make their way into the same microwave that’s reheating the 3-day old frozen pizza. Classy!
You nepos seem like crazy asylum absentees when I’m sober.
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I’m on the wagon until 1 pm EST on business/school days this year. If I fall off the morning wagon the Mrs. is going back on the wagon and I can’t stand her sober for two years again.
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If that doesn’t make sense, I simply like her better when she’s buzzed.
@tall guy, I wouldn’t call them fantasies as much as I would refer to them as self affirmations that its okay to be single. Rev Chad is my After School Special if you will. But he is more effective because he’s real. Or you could think of him as my go to guy for what not to do with the exception of his chilli recipe, because that actually sounded pretty tasty minus the 8 lbs of porch beef it required.
@ Nancy
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Happy New Year to you to darlin’. The hiatus from the little fucckers (or as people call them around here “students”) has kept me away from computers, cell phones, etc. Anything that isn’t in the underground shelter I’m constructing in the hopes that mankind (personkind?) will kill itself faster hasn’t gotten my attention for the past couple of weeks.
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Which brings me to this picture. I initially thought it was of Scott Weiland and Billie Jo Armstrong celebrating New Years by getting ready to make sweet monkey love to each other and then I realized this was preferable to look at.
@Doc B, good to have you back. And yes, the third pic was far more interesting than the first two. Bleh, Billy Joel Whinestrong and Scott Waaahland.
Hey Rev:
We all like her better buzzed, too.
For the Rev and his preference for a drunk wife:
You look different every time you come
from the foam-crested brine
It’s your skin shining softly in the moonlight
Partly fish, parly porpoise, partly baby sperm whale
Am I yours? Are you mine to play with?
Joking apart when you’re drunk
You’re terrific when you’re drunk
I like you mostly late at night – you’re quite all right
But I can’t understand the different you
In the morning when it’s time to play
at being human for a while
Please smile!
You’ll be different in the spring, I know
You’re a seasonal beast
Like the starfish that drifted with the tide, with the tide
So until your blood runs to meet the next full moon
Your madness fits in nicely with my own, with my own
Your lunacy fits neatly with my own – my very own
We’re not alone…
^ Beautiful song. I have a date with a bottle.
This was taken 15 minutes before he fucked her and 15.5 minutes before he was done and she was left crying on the dirty bathroom floor.
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Come to me, honey, I will at least leave you crying on a clean floor.
Is that cum on the mirror? Classy bunch.
Well, the mirrors haven’t cracked yet, so we still have a long way to go in this crisis. In the meantime, the hotts and douches keep on Snapping and the rest of us Crackle at the POPular pastime of bathroom-camera-hijinks.
I thought this was “hot” chicks with douchbags…
Zing.
No shower curtain or nothin’?