The DB1 on a Thursday Morning
No, that’s not me in the picture.
If I were to get a giant tattoo on my Jewish ass it would feature only a giant bagel with lox on it taking a dump on the corpse of rotting Zombie Hitler.
Because that’s how Jewtatts roll.
That, or I’d get a tatt of Kelly’s bazongagongs as an ironic commentary on sexuality and patriarchy, causing gender confusion among our children for generations to come.
But I digress.
So. This morning. I woke up. Fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my yadda yadda.
And for those of you who have ever dragged a comb across your yadda yadda, I don’t recommend it. You get the bristles stuck in the prickles!
Baddaboom!
Gold, Jerry. Gold.
I had some quality hot and squirty Donut Shop K-Cup action
Then I had nothing to do.
So I neutered my ferret.
No, not literally.
My actual ferret, “Mr. Pancho,” remains a virile and passionate lover.
No, by “neutered my ferret,” that’s actually an expression from the Victorian era that refers to the act of torturing street urchins who fail to chimney sweep in the proper counter-clockwise direction.
And on that non-sequitor, I head for more coffee.
Whaddaya want, brilliant prose? The site’s free, bub.
…’dragging a comb across my yadda yadda’ involves a moist towelette & microwaved PlayDo
‘neutering my ferret’ involves plastic tubing and a door handle.
“nothing to do” involves having nothing to do.
Why does that Lion?Tiger?Liger? have a concave face?
You should offer a “Double your $ back!” guarantee.
Woodpecker with cigar would be a good tatt choice. Also, I predict a pierced grundle will be the popular trend amongst the next generation
Walking around shirtless with a lion’s head tattoo covering his chest, the illegible scrawl across his chicken bones might as well read “Punch me in the face”.
.
I imagine he lays awake at night fantasizing about what he should have said to that the guy in the bar who threw beer in his face, pulled down his board shorts, and then tongue kissed his girl while sliding his hand forcefully inside her panties.
.
Because mumbling “Well, you’d better use a condom fella” was clearly not his shining moment.
.
As I gaze at that tattoo, I can see into the future.
.
Specifically, his future; I see his hide stretched over a pot belly, where the tiger eternally stares up at him – frozen in mid-vomit.
@ Mr. Scrotato Head 10:55 am:
.
Given the pus-swirled red pee he is currently generating from his inflamed and crusted urethra tip, perhaps the harshest come-back would have been “Yea…go for it bare-back, brah!”
Beyonce, one of my favorite Mulatoos, doesn’t hold a candle to that freaky Sephardim Emmy Rossum. Possum?
Imagine a lion snapping him in half,much more entertaining than looking at this.
she cleans my toilet seat with her tongue…& by toilet seat I mean poop hole