Clubaggery
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Monday, April 1, 2013
Biff Smirk takes nose-ring nina to the 7th ring of the disco inferno
Biff tries to sooth increasingly concerned mid-western goddess Nina that this strange new club is completely normal… “Sulfur? Nah, Doll, that smell’s just them sliders I had on the way here talkin’ to ya…yeah, dat’s da ticket…“.
Monday, February 25, 2013Mongor Monday
And lo, the missing chromosome remains an elusive subject in the land of Mongoria.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013A Whole Bunch of Herpster Assmunch Hits on Desiree
William Herpsterassmunch, come on down!!
You’re the next contestant on Why Old People Should Not Establish Trustfunds for their Grandchildren Without Getting To Know Them First!
Monday, January 21, 2013Two-Button Biff is…The ClubRubber
Yeah, we’ve all seen this guy out on the town. Two-Button Biff chicken-necking to whatever’s blasting through the house system, wending his way through the fleshy pit trolling for skank around the 1 am mark, after the first barrage of free drinks has softened up the moistened beachheads of Southern Pants.
Then…he spots his prey…moves in for the chill…after floating out a string of increasingly crass come-on lines without rebuff, it happens: The Suggestive Forearm Caress. Don’t do it, Amber!
Fast forward to the next morning…the drafty walk of shame after Amber abandons the futile search for her panties, which he had the presence of mind to stuff behind the head of the mattress on the floor of the spare room of a brah’s pad he’s crashing at until that kiosk job at the mall comes through again. He will, after being ejected by said brah for not pitching in on, well, anything, take the several soiled trophies he’s stuffed between the grimy wall and lumpy mattress and tack them up on the wall of his old room at Ma’s house.
Then T.B.B. will shellac himself with axe, button them two buttons…and steer the Hyundai towards The Club once more.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012The Most Whitening Man in the World
He doesn’t always something something. But he is a douchebag.
Yeah, got nuthin’.
Things just haven’t been the same since my raccoon got hepatitis.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012The Purplippia
Amanda and her bestie, Amanda, like to call themselves the Mandy Twins.
Their giggles sound like autotuned angels singing Philip Glass.
The Purplippia’s violations are deep and incommensurate with a God-like universe. Or, as the kids might say, Satan took a dump on the Torah.
Yup. Got nuthin’.
Where’s my damn socks.
Monday, October 29, 2012D.J. Zack McDickwad is Why We Fight On
As long as D.J. Zack McDickwad still exits, rubbing the fertile thighs of slutty hott party woos, then we fight on.
If not for the kids, then for the suckle poke.
Kids and suckle poke should probably not be in the same sentence, even if the verbal transitory clause makes it clear that two distinct conceptual allusions are being used purely as contrasting referents.
Monday, October 15, 2012Well Sheeeeiiitttt…
If voting’s this sparse for the Monthly, I’mma just post more pictures of Jesus Blinged Mongor hitting on party chicks Jessica and Brandy.
Oh wait, that’s what I do anyway.
Dammit. Hoisted by my own douchetard.
Monday, October 1, 2012Elmo Hott and Groverchoad Approve of the HCwDB of the Week
Somewhere in the infinite beyond, Jim Henson weeps softly into his corn flakes.
Sunday, July 22, 2012Spikey and the Bath Salt Shaker Commend the Reader Comment o' the week
Spikey pauses from playing his Strumpet in the club only long enough to say “Yo, nice work, Bag Hunters…it’s a 3-way!”. Then back to publicly grinding the societal loss into our collective souls.
First up: Hermit, surveying the raft of 1%-er douchocity evinced in Wednesday’s “Yo, It’s Hard Up In These Hamptons”, opines:
“If one looks beyond the trappings of materialism, the designer sunglasses and fashionable clothes, he can read in the faces of these youngsters the pain lost love and broken homes. And, if he looks further, a set of low-slung milk jugs suspended by a pair of leopard skin tit hammocks.”
Then we have rat packer DoucheyWallnuts, regarding “John Largeman Jr’s Poor Life Choices”; D.W. says:
“I beg to differ. Given Largeman’s ample deficits, I think in this case he’s chosen wisely. These three would be beyond his pay grade to masterbate to, so to actually be in contact with them is on a par with the Ethiopians getting to Mars before we do.”
Mars, he says.
Finally there is Vin Douchal, riffing on “Kid n’ Poo”. V.D. simply utters “LL Stool J”…
It is this generation’s “Rosebud”.
That’s a wrap on another week of the collective mock…we’ll close out with a rare visit from Hall of Pear Queen Supreme AssPear LaPlante...Book ’em, Dano.
