Love in the Time of Collar-Up
Here’s a story that can only be understood if the entirety of symbolic meaning is taken into account.
First we have Groovin’ Brothabag Woody in the pink leisure suit. Groovin’ Brothabag Woody is our spirit guide, our shaman, our subjective interloper in the spirit world.
Then we have our protagonist, Silk Shirt Steve. A stage-1 or stage-2 ‘bag for the lip pubes and sleeve fold maneuver.
Our heroine, delightful belly spankle pooch fondle Samantha offers all that angels sing in cherubic medieval butt revealing harpsichordian song. Hers are the earlobes that I would wistfully tickle and clasp with knock-kneed knock knees. Her black dress sheen promises a reveal of nakedness that far surpasses anticipation, one of the rarest of joys in this cold and chaotic world. I would fondle. Indeed. Oh yes. And oh yes.
And then, our Collar-Up antagonist, Earl. Who is ironic. And drinks PBR. And has just taken headshots in the hopes of getting cast in a Heineken commercial.
Somebody needs to tell Groovin’ Brothabag Woody the hand goes in the pocket when playing pocket billiards.
It’s a modern day retelling: The Legend of ‘Bagger Vance.
This bar is where it happens.
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Where it happens to be a shitty joint full of peen holes.
Quartasian Samantha gives me a heady feeling. A feeling I miss. A feeling of glee like a Santa Barbara policeman with a cornered psychopath and a lighter in a mountain range celebrating with a Mardi Gras bonfire. I hate coppers.
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Too soon.
Pooch Fondle Samantha is all that is right with exotic features, and as DB1 so rightly surmised, a hint nay a tease of succulent breasts and taut man spackle depository zone. Mmmmm……… Pooch Fondle Samantha.
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To Gamecockbag if your out there your I do believe the DB1 answered your challenge for he knows what he does well.
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I’d hang out with Groovin’ Brothabag Woody. I bet he has great stories to tell.
I feel bad for Groovin’ Brothabag Woody, it looks like it just dawned on him that this isn’t the locale nor are these competitors for the regional qualifier of the Players Ball.
http://www.playersball.com/
Samantha is delicious.
Somewhere in ancient Rome Russell Crowe stands in the center of the arena, casts down his sword, and demands of the crowd, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?!?!?!? IS THIS NOT WHY YOU ARE HERE?!?!?!”
^this is why Mr. Scrotato Head is the man, son.
Silk Shirt Steve is in way over his head with Samantha; I hear she is a front runner for 2013 Most Expensive First Date Hott.
I hear Samantha is the front runner for the cover of March’s “Vaguely Asian” magazine.
Groovin’ B. Woody assembles artistic, hanging mobiles from discarded sardine cans severed human hands and hubcaps.
Groovin ‘ B. Woody starred in an Off-Broadway musical about the life and times of Grady Wilson.
Groovin’ B. Woody spends his days burning ants with a magnifying glass, on the sidewalk in front of his mother’s home in Dayton, Ohio.
While sartorially spectacular, GBW is not rocking a Leisure Suit.
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I speak from experience.
Nehrus.
Groovin’ B. Woody can smell colors.
Never underestimate the deep and meaningful irony of the “no smoking” sign hovering over the head of the, obviously smoking, Samantha.
Leon is rocking the funk out the pink jumpsuit look… or more likely, he is color blind and retarded.
Steve has the resigned look of a player who knows he’s about to be sent down to the minor leagues. Really the only thing standing between him and night of surfing youporn for Samantha look-alikes is that $400 shirt. And he’s been wearing it 3 days straight now.
Am I the only one who notices the Mila Kunis eyebrow thing on Samantha? I think in the bylaws that call for instant HoH.
Wade Everymann uses the multiple distractions to buy time and memorize his 3 witty comebacks to insults for drinking Cosmos. Actually it’s 2, plus “so is your mother” which doesn’t work so well, but is better than nothing if he gets flustered.
That Scott Brosius sure can pull the hotts.
Cover for this months issue of Date Rapist quarterly
S.S. Steve is not just a hack, he’s an Überhack.
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I know a hack when I see one. Samantha’s gonna hang in there for three expensive meals and some hugging and then that stockbroker that keeps calling…. the one with the ’09 Hummer and knock off Rolex will step up for his three and out…. followed by the State Farm agent … and on
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Who beds this beauty? That shit was over her sophomore year at UCLA when she tried her Korean roomate’s shaved flavah and her soul said , “Meh”.
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Her final spot will be in the 92677 zip code with an Eurasian-American orthopedic surgeon, spurting out little half breeds and spree shopping the South Coast Plaza any day that ends in “Y”, tanning salon membership, yacht they don’t use and an addiction to Agomelatine that allows her to cheer on her little one’s basketball team from the bench as the “Team Mom”
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Überhack I says
Silk Shirt Steve really likes Samantha but secretly fantasizes of what she would look like with an 8″ cockk!
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dreamers
Groovin’ Brothabag Woody rues the game he tore his ACL in high school football. His days are filled with calls to The Mighty 690 to get bleeped yammering on about the Lakers’ high rotation and guzzling Nyquil while he spies on his neighbor across the street’s wife fucking the UPS driver. His amorous looks to her when she gets the mail go unnoticed but he always buys the candy when their kids’ start Little League, limping to the door when they ring the bell.
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He owns a Fleshlight Girls Jenna Haze mouth – blow job imitator
, but doesn’t everyone?
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He stumbled into this scene because the word “Free” is on the sign
Groovin’ B. Woody looks like he spent the afternoon in Cornwall enjoying some of the local home grown medicine and incomprehensible yet intriguing stories from one of the locals.
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Playas
Groovin’ B. Woody was raised by a chair leg and once ate a live cat on a double-dare.
Groovin’ B. Woody’s left leg is made of pleather and he has a custom bong made of ostrich assholes.
Groovin’ B. Woody once lived for a month off of nutrients gleened from carpet mining.
Groovin’ B. Woody invented the modern tunnel, and has a scientific calculator made entirely of bacon.
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Motherfuckers.
Did anyone catch DB1’s sly caption yet? Son
brutha bag groovin’ b. woody makes earings outta volvo hubcaps he steals while splitting lanes on the san diego fwy at rush hour on a big wheel
groovin’ b. woody can circumsize elephants with nail clippers whilst playing god save the queen on a kazoo during kingston carnival parades
groovin’ b. woody drinks red eye thru a silly straw outta plinky’s mom’s cavenous bunghole
Groovin’ B. Woody had a six month sexual relationship with the LPGA.
Groovin’ B. Woody has plexiglass lymph nodes.
Groovin’ B. Woody can fart the Romanian National Anthem.
Groovin’ B. Woody once spit a Dorrito 246 feet.
Groovin’ B. Woody wrestles Sport Utility Vehicles in WalMart parking lots.
Groovin’ B. Woody’s spleen contains 43 pounds of weapons-grade plutonium.
groovin’ b. woody force fed shots of drambui down rodney kings throat the night he took a beat down
groovin’ b. woody uses poodle puppy skullz for rollerskates
groovin’ b. woody bench presses 300 lb wooden dildos
groovin’ b. woody eats cheerio’s outta sprintin cheetah rectum
groovin’ b. woody has a barbed wire cockk ring
Laugh it up. In 30 years, he’ll be Mayor Groovin’ B. Woody.
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Goldie Wilsons
Rev, I’m in Ottawa. What, if anything, is good about Ottawa?
Mayor Groovin’ B. Woody worked up the beats for rapping barista “Spekulation”
Mayor Groovin’ B. Woody had a threesome in his office with Mabel the Meter Maid and Tanisha from Fishing Permits
groovin’ b. woody moonlights at tha sarasota senior center as a yoga pants yeast detector
groovin’ b. woody appeared in this photo with the knowledge that it would start a thread that would rival that of the legendary Samurai Scrote.
Groovin’ B. Woody yodels in his spare time for relaxation purposes.
Groovin’ B. Woody inspired he of the DarkSock to make his presence known again and that’s a good thing.
Groovin’ B. Woody restores antique Ham Radios out of spite in his spare time.
Groovin’ B. Woody could knock out Calvin Bagins with one punch using his non-dominant arm.
Groovin’ B. Woody once landed a state record Muskellunge using nothing but his shoestrings, a paperclip and some gum for bait.
Groovin’ B. Woody’s sphincter muscles are controlled remotely by a 24 year old Air Force Lieutenant sitting before a large computer monitor in Langley Virginia.
Groovin’ B. Woody can maintain an erection for up to six hours through the use of a stainless steel turnbuckle in his stomach cavity.
how did Kurt Warner commit this baggery and not have it plastered all over ESPN and NFL.com?
Pink guy in back is far more interesting. He steals the show. Silk Shirt Steve=boring. Samantha is bored with Silk Shirt in 5,4,3,2,1,zero…