Thursday, August 9, 2012
Papa Smurf Got Eaten by a Brothabag
Serves him right for trying to peep into Kelly’s cabana.
Serves him right for trying to peep into Kelly’s cabana.
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Kelly will regret her Muleskinning ways. Muleskinning, I says.
Smurfs! ATTACK!
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Either that, or Kelly needs to see her gynocologist ASAP.
I’d eat her Smurfberries.
I’d stick it in her Gargamel.
I’d let her blue my balls.
Death-tongue for cutie
If you see an ugly, bottle blonde there’s usually a BroBag lurking nearby.
Her hair reminds me of Play-doh on a hot day. He is already black and blue so my work is done here.
Just wait until the horde of Chinese millionaires come for our Bleeths, Wallnuts. Even Dreuche fill finally get some play (albeit from a 2 inch micro-phallus that barely parts her labia minora), but you and I will be out in the cold. And by out in the cold I mean in the garage jerking off to CK’s model mayhem page. Not together, mind you, unless you want to??
Kelly has a deep spiritual side. I can tell because she wrote Tao on her solo cup in black sharpie. She probably has a couple of verses from the I Ching tattooed onto her prolapse.
She looks thrilled.
She looks pretty haggared I bet she’ll let smurf off inside her.
The both look like they’ve been hitting the sizzurp pretty hard next step bath salts and smurfing on the face.
The beauty of these two inbibing sweetened, blended cocktails in the 100 degree Vegas burnlight is twofold.
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One, they will be playing really bad at the tables, thus insuring that the casinos I routinely hammer will make their profit off others and be there to pay me boatloads
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Secondly, they’ll most likely forget to drink water during the sweet-y goodness of Cadilac Margaritas and Daquiris so they’ll have the most hellacious hellfire hangover with no cure. To this I say: >>>>> AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHaaaa fuckwits !<<<<
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>>>>> AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHaaaa fuckwits !<<<<< , I says
um,you should have that looked at bro.
Windex on the rocks was two for one during Happy Hour.