Goose Runner
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Saturday, October 27, 2012
COMMENT OF THE WEEK: JACQUES DOUCHETEAU
Looking from the inside out, I have a new-found appreciation for the subtle genius of rewarding creative commentators with the coveted Comment Of The Week while at the same time utterly phoning in an entire weekend day by re-posting something you didn’t even write yourself in the first place.
Oh DB1, you sly boots.
Semi-aquatic regular, Jacques Doucheteau, takes home the gold this week with his pithy observations on the dearth of worth when it comes to bedding a bleeth in IT’S ALIVE…PROBABLY.
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That broad looks like a migraine f@#k. The p@#sy isn’t that great, but a damp hole is a damp hole, and the satisfaction of getting to brag about tagging that scrawny ass with much disrespect would make it that much more worth it. However…
Funbags there no doubt gets her ideas of what’s sexy from redtube and pornhub, like oh so many more of those pseudo-SoCo girls. They throw out fake scream/grunts with every thrust, a grimace of half pleasure, half discomfort from unaroused lack of lube as they force out “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!” repeatedly in the same ascending pitch. The sound of their bad porn actress moans drives into your eardrums like old Asian lady in a Saturday Market on a closed street, taking out unsuspecting neurons and running over your more cherished memories of girls giving genuine moans of coital triumphs, spinning the tires on their faces until they’re ground down to a bloody gore and bone soaked sludge of “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!” Like a cluster headache, once you get your d@#k wet you reach the point of no return, where the pain behind your eyes is so intense the only way out is a forceful injection of lidocaine and double-aught buckshot into the sinus cavities.
You pound harder and faster, slapping you d@#k muscle into her boney loins like an overtaxed steam engine piston, hoping to hurry up and be rid of the torture emanating from her vocal cords. But the fake grunts just get louder and faster in unison, and the pitch rises. Neighborhood dogs begin to howl. Nearby tenants put out “For Sale” signs. The old deaf bum who begs for Big Macs and Camo 99 down in front of the corner market vomits out his pancreas and promptly bleeds to death, his last experience in life being the first sound he hears: “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!”
I’d still tag it.
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So say we all, JD. So say we all.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The Clone Wars
Little known Star Wars fact. The Clone Wars actually began in Little Armenia in 2009.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012Site Lugubriousosity
Like a greasy Cantabrigian bartender, the site hath bumped along the past week during massive rebuilding of its patchwork post-Lando Millennium Falcon engine. So bear with, and apologies.
It should hopefully be running better now, but if you’re running into major lag-time, drop me a line and let me know what browser and other problems you’re seeing.
In the meantime, boobs.
Monday, June 25, 2012Pinky Ringer Approves of the HCwDB of the Week
Pinky Ringer, the Collective Hand of Douchal Antimatter, approves of the HCwDB of the Week by Goose Running into Julia and Rache’s coy uvulas.
Beware the coy uvula. For it will wreck your Prius in a fit of rage at 2am outside the Rite-Aid on Sunset.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012Harrison Ford Runs with the Goose
And the DB1’s entire world view implodes with the force of a thousand suns…
Something Went Terribly Wrong with This Gentleman's Head, Hair, Arms, and Upper Chest Area
And by gentleman, I mean Shoescrape of Choadscrote.
Katherine and her bestie, Tori, like to powder each other’s bottoms in the cloakroom with chalk dust and a powder puff from the 19th Century.
And by bottoms, I mean butts.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012Clayton Runs With The Goose
And somewhere in suburban Wichita, a lonely grackle chokes forlornly on a cigarette butt.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day,” says the grackle.
