Monday, February 13, 2012
Z Has More Money Than You
Fading splotches of dyed douche hair remind the world that Z will spend Aunt Thelma’s trust fund on expensive yacht parties until the proletariat drag him out from his castles and strip-tar and feather him for being an undeserving puke like, deep down, he knows he deserves.
Six pound watches and white parties for the aristocratic loss.
I don’t judge Marcie for doing what she has to do to get through nursing school. But really, I don’t judge her because I’m too busy theoretically poking side boob with a stale breadstick while greasing myself up with crisco and dancing the Watusi.
The day after Christmas as I was walking my dog through my neighborhood as small stray came up to keep us company. Being the Mega-sucker that I am for animals (and my pure everlasting hatred for 99.9999999999999% of the “people” on this planet) I took him home. Mrs. Doc Bunsen and I cleaned him up and are currently fostering him for our local SPCA until we can find him a good home (The morons at the SPCA should NEVER leave me in charge of this because I get to go on “home visits” to see if the dog will work with potential adopters. And most people think a body cavity search is unpleasant. Well, they haven’t met me yet.). When we take him to the vet and the dog park he likes to stick his head out the window. Seeing as he looks like this, his facial hair gets blown around a lot. Now the dog will always be infinitely cuter and better looking than this dickhead, they do look similar after a long car ride.
Someone should tell this douche that fwipping his hair up like that makes his receding hairline even MORE prominent.
Actually, nah, don’t tell him. It’s more fun this way.
Marcie is what a my dearly departed great-uncle would call a “tasty morsel” but it looks like she has some man-hands.
^I don’t groove to small dogs but sometimes they’re ayight. Brunette poochsuckle will be a nurse. She is slamtabulous now until she becomes self-aware and obsesses on her cute spankticklish cellulite stem cells. At the point of awareness she will become a harsh bickering cowpig. This will be followed by long shifts doing her practicum when the donut and heavily creamed coffee marathon begin. Full-time duties will be accompanied by large boxes of chocolate arriving with bows and ribbons in appreciation of her apparent care while she gave Gramma that extra shot of morphine the night she started shitting blood all over the bed and had to be catheterized cause she couldn’t be bothered leaving the nurses station to change the fucking sheets on account of the honey-glazed box she gravitated to and Gramma fucking died.
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Maybe she’ll be right waddling her big fat ass down to Grammas and killing her maliciously or maybe it will be out of empathy.
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Euthenaethists
I’ve never seen a person more deserving of a boot to the larynx! I agree with Doc Bunsen 99.99999% of people on this mud ball flying around the sun are pretty much walking shit! Right here is a prime example of why!
Z is waiting on his small private island for his showdown with 007. Marcie will be chugging secret agent cocc before the end of the 2nd scene.
“Z uses phrases like ‘Wurd Up,’ and ‘Sup Bro?’, while wearing his ovoid shaped wrist clock. He’s The Most Uninteresting Douchebag in the World.”
David Lee Moth
Whoever the first stylist was to determine that the poorly colored male updo with the temple forward swoop is the best way to hide a receding hair line should die of pancreatic cancer, if he/she already hasn’t.
I hope he gets busted for insider trading and the judge is having a bad day and decides to make an example of him and has him tossed into one of those gladiator school kind of prisons where a couple of skinheads turn his pimply little bleached corn shooter into their personal playground for 3 to 5 years. Or better yet have a negligent boat captain who forgoes turning on the bilge blower as Z is an impatient bastard who had a long day of luxuriating and borderline date rape ahead of him. As the engine turns over the spark ignites the unvented gas fumes that filled the engine compartment consuming the yacht in a glorious ball of ironic fire deep frying his well oiled skin to extra crispy for the bottom dwellers of sea to feed upon.
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Seaman
That Kevin Costner sure pulls the latino/tranny hotts.
That girl looks like she’s good to go. Too bad that Bentley he rolled up in belongs to one of his clients. Auto Detailers need a little nookie too.
index, thumb and pinky rings accent the landing pad of a watch he sports well. I wonder what is on his right wrist? i bet it’s another watch. only someone brilliant enough to spike his receding hairline is capable of dual wrist time pieces. It’s a shame she has the bleeth lower back tat.
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Regrets
Plus! Athletes In Body Paint!
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/02/sports-illustrated-swimsuit-issue-2012-cover_n_1250635.html
I’m thinking about starting a Hair Club For Choads®. I find it interesting how these balding clowns put so much time, effort and $$ into their appearance, yet they ignore the fact that their ever retreating hairline makes frosted tips look worse.
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“Not only am I the president, I’m also a member of the Hall of Mock.”
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Target Markets
Z drives a Porsche. He pronounces it “Audi”. Cuz he rolls like dat.
cocaine, rogaine, or propane, nobody rides for free.
house painters.
Is that “the gum snapper” from the HCwDB book?
Army of Douche-ness
Unfortunately Marcie’s oversize tramp stamp means she must be filed under “B” for Bleeth.
This site deserves a better class of bag hunter!
Long gone are the verbose days of yore. So much for the posts containing corned beef strained though a sewer grate. So much for the posts containing faogoath;s tarmal! Long gone are the days Mr. White and I would squabble over who would get whose sloppy seconds.
Indeed this latest iteration is truly a step backwards in bag hunting society. I visit, infrequently, in hopes of finding new inspiration, only to find bag hunting lite and not the next generation as I had hoped.
Step it 2.0
^A poor attempt at trolling d.baggins v2.0. Sit it out Nancy.
@d.baggins v2.0, maybe people have shit to do. You know, lives n’ shit. Families, jobs, sex…etc. and shit.
@Rev, sit out what? Jesus Christ, you still think I post under different names? And when did I argue with Mr. White about sloppy seconds? We’re totally into different things. Why don’t you actually read the comment smart guy before you go and open your Frito stuffed yapper.
I can vouch for Nancy….she is not d.baggins v2.0….
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At the time of the post in question, she was giving me the flogging I so richly deserve.
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Tall and tanned and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema shows poor taste.
None better. Get the new cd, be a mensch
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As she displays his tiny necklace of a cock.
Possibly the greatest pleasure I could have all day would be to walk past him, and with a deft and angry flick of my wrist, flip that drink up in the air and splatter him in cranberry puss cocktail. And as he stood there, gasping, his white outfit now sloppily tie-dyed red, I’d look back, lock eyes with him and growl, “That’s for being a twat.”
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Twatterflies
Marcie makes me want to feel……….Unclean……….droooooooollll………………God, the sick and twisted things I would love to have her do with/to me………………
geez except for that garish Tramp Stamp I’d say Marcie should be on a greased luge-like shute straight into the HoH. She is HOTT!!
@Vin: The 80s called…
I like how her polka dot bikini gives the illusion of a see thru bikini.
Yo Dreuche (or anyone else)
I need help. How can I say to the German (via phone) that I assumed she was single and found her attractive. I also want to mention that I would have liked to go out, have fun and get to know each other.
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Obviously I want to express this in the coolest way possible.
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So anyway.
@CBP – well’ I’ll be damned. Those are polka dots on that bikini top!
@tall guy, let me have some coffee and I’ll get back to you. But for starters avoid using the terms poochsparkle, gizzlespank and boobies. That is, unless you like sounding like a tard.
@Rev: you’re right; you can see the cellulite starting already. Sucks to get old.
The thing is, Dreuche, I am reliably informed that her marital state is separated, but she’s hopeful for reconciliation. I am guessing the hope is all – or at least mostly – hers. Wolfgang (not his real name) may have fled the hausfrau for a Fräulein Helga lookalike.
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So you see I may be able to oil in on empathic grounds; not a long term prospect, but I could definitely throw her up in the air once or twice.
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Bob Crane.
Not long term eh? Then you need to approach it that way. Should be easier since you’re just looking to hit it, hit it and then quit it. Does she seem like the type that can handle a casual hookup? Maybe approach it like “Hey, are you looking for a rebound guy to get back at your ex?”. If you’re cool being rebound guy, I say this is the perfect situation to get back in the game and reclaim your mojo. The cool thing is since you’re not really thinking long term you shouldn’t care if she turns you down. Approach it from that mindset and she may fall for your devil may carettitude.
Thanks Dreuche, that’s good advice. I don’t mind being a rebound guy. Having spent the majority of my life being Mr Nice Guy, it’s time to experience a position other than last. I’ve also had several mental images of other positions I’d like to experience w/- her, which I might share post-coital – but no pictures!
He may very well have more money, but I have more of a hairline.
@tall guy, go gettum’. With me in your corner you can’t lose. Medical fact.