Clubaggery
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Monday, January 17, 2011
Carla and “The Bros” ™
“The Bros” ™ follow three rules in life, and only three rules:
1. Wherever they go, they travel together. Even Sabio’s studio apartment when he’s tweakin’ the booty bump.
2. Shirtlessness at all times is a priori de facto word up, yo.
3. Transcendental meditation is but the gateway to the Godhead, the glorious om can never be verbalized or conceived, only experienced.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011Signs of the Impending Apocalypse #43
Some say a thousand dead birds falling out of the sky is a sign of the impending apocalypse.
I say it’s eurobag crypo-gay chest shave revealing sparkly shirts being worn by pseudo-model asswipes in presence of drunk boozy hottie suckle thigh.
So sayeth in the immortal predictions by Nostradouchemas in his epic four part Book of the ‘Bag.
Monday, January 3, 2011Captain Shnook
Ah yes, from Senior Year, we all remember reading The Rhyme of the Ancient Marinated Chin Fung.
The Barbara Sisters rang in the New Year in style — with awkward and unwanted gropes in the kitchen by Captain Shnook’s harpoons.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005Friday Haiku
Duck Face? Aw Hell Naw.
Tool-Bag introduces the
Courtney Love Vag-Face…
***The Mock is small but STRONG this cycle, alert readers; much like storied pro wrestler Igor Putksi. Son. In a hard choice, Vin D wins the InterWebs because of the Kafka-esque hopelessness of his acerbic post…
The Reverend Chad Kroeger said…
They smell like those pork
Sausages with the fancy
Names Portuguese.
hermit said…
Semitic trio
Has a real reason to fear
Midget ISIS dude
Vin Douchal said…
Daffy Duck poses
Chicks will laugh at photobomb
‘Til job interview
Charles Douchewin said…
Meanwhile, backstage
the Bona Killahs pose with
their number one fan.
The Reverend Chad Kroeger said…
It puts the fist on
The chin, or it gets the
Hose. Filthy bitch hose.
Vin Douchal said…
Background dudes all stunned
Paid for these Bleeths drinks all night
Cabbie takes them home
Charles Douchewin said…
Joe Plaidman is on
a mission. A mission to
locate the exit.
Jacques Doucheteau said…
Dan puts on a stiff
upper lip, it’s the only
thing he can get stiff.
The Dude said…
Three hotts that look like
Ariella Ferrera!?
Tool-Bag will get ditched.
Teenage (fondling) Mutant Ninja Turdle
LeoTardo unveils his Pink Flail attack to Marcie, whose dad will soon be searching for a length of hemp rope and a sturdy rafter.
That’s my caption…what’s yourn?
Monday, February 28, 2005Sexy Sadie with Two Dim Shadies
Oh Sexie Sadie…caught between the poles (literally) of Perma-Lose and WallStreet Douche…can you blame your Sicilian Carnivore WingGirl from walking away in disgust/self-loathing jealousy? We too are jealous…O that alibaster Elvira skin…
Posts have been sparse in this wormhole into 2005…Spinal Meningitis is calming down and the Socklets will soon ship back to the Present Ex-Mrs. Sock so salad days will soon return. Until then…here’s a pair o’ pears.
Just hang in there as I make the necessary adjustments.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005TongueHolio grubs the tautness of Jen’s tummy and mocks you with his eyes, through the pristine lens of those designer shades which he was sure to leave the tag on. So, you know, you’d understand he dropped an entire 6 shifts of busboy pay on them. Same reason he hangs his $200 drawers out his $12 Dockers. Because that was the only thing in the store besides that new Chest Lettuce within his reach.
ToungeHolio also has a DefCon 4 scalp goiter about to burst.
O the myriad ways to burst it…
Sunday, February 13, 2005Time for America’s favorite new gameshow…
Posit your guesses of possible digital odiferousness, as ever, in the comments section.
********
Smells like Pad Thai & shame?
The Price Is Low?
Smells like Indian food and menstruation.
Post-surgical pus drainage and KY jelly?
Who Wants to Bang a Hundredaire?
YoBro tells Pia to stop staring into the microwave
10 degree hat tilt? Check.
Douchie wrist acoutrement? Check.
Stupid $200 sh!t-wrapper of a t-shirt? Check
Smug millennial trust-fund scowl for his brah’s Instagram? Check.
Fish-Slap demeanor? Chickity-Check. Yo.
Check, please.
Sweetie, you can do better. It’s written in that sniff-poo look on your pretty mug.
But you choose not to. Hence we mock.
Saturday, January 29, 2005DAMN YOU, KING ALCOHOL!
We’ve all been there. Countless Jack n’ Cokes…then…you spot her. The flaxen-haired fair goddess that meets your gaze.
You exchanges glances. Dances. She accompanies you home to your mother’s basement (It’s only temporary, Doll; c’mon down and check it out…)
Then you wake up to THIS.
Share your tawdry tales, as e’er, in the comments section. And prepare to squint your mind’s eye.
O…The horror…