Friday Haiku
Although Mortimer
Didn’t pee in Tammi’s pool,
He ruined her vodka…
Jesus died on cross
for sinners. Sees Mortimer
and reconsiders
— Charles Nelson Douchely
Two-tone bikini
is not impressed by bad tats.
Mort tries the peen grab.
— FoghornLeghorn
Rich guy hires Tina
To be his dork son’s first lay;
Tina wants more cash
— saulgoode42
The last time I saw
this much pork in hot water
was boiling hot dogs.
— Douche Wayne
This is the poster
For Fecal Incontinece
Don’t go in the tub
— DoucheyWallnuts
Stone Phillip Will Not React To You
No, not even you, Trickster Paid-to-Pose Energy Drink Swilling Giggle Hotts.
EDIT: Props to Douche Ellington in the comments threads for noticing the genius photobomb taking place in this pic by Chet Largeman (named in the threads by “this just in…”). I did indeed miss the pudwhackery, revolted by swole as I was.
What it Looks like When a Father Fails
Somewhere in Dallas, a man who had a daughter twenty years ago stares into the existential abyss of his mirror and realizes the completion of his failure is signaled by a lip piercing.
Caption This Pic
#1: “It’s true! Grape Nuts contain neither grapes, nor nuts!”
#2: “So I says, ‘Angie! I don’t care if he’s hung like Tommy Lee, Giuseppe is bad news!’ And she was like, ‘Nuh uh!’ And I was like, ‘Yuh huh!’ And then I set her weave on fire and it was, like, totes hilarious! You shoudda been there.”
#3: “Chylamidia is that new diet skin cream they sell at Nordstroms, right?”
Can you do better? Take yer best shot in the thread.
Eurotimmy Is In Over His Head with Swedish Inga
Let Swedish Inga’s Scandanavian skin reign supreme as succulent servings of boobie poke proddle fondle. I would pensively drool on her shoulder with only a year’s supply of Turtle Wax to console me.
On the upside, Eurotimmy is a finalist for the Danish Bauhaus inspired digital remix of Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Newman, performed only with L.E.D. lights as the preamble to a Deadmaus rave in Dusseldorf.
H.R. Giger-esque Indian tatts eat world.
Where's Fizzleface?
Somewhere in this midterm gathering of collegiate hotts and nerds, I’ve carefully hidden a Fizzleface.
Look closely.
Can you take away his bottle of L.A. Looks hair gel and flush it down the unisex toilet?
Esoteric Wednesday
Beer.
Breaking: Faux-Punk Manic Pixie Dreamgirl Cliche to Marry Nickelbag
Someone’s marrying someone. This is news for some reason.
——-
AVRIL Lavigne has shocked fans by announcing she’s engaged – to Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger.
The pair have only been dating for six months, after teaming up to write a song for the Canadian pop star’s new album.
Avril and Chad – who, at 37, is 10 years older than his bride-to-be – have managed to keep their romance under wraps since meeting.
But a spokesperson for Avril has confirmed she’s to tie the knot after the singer retweeted news of their engagement.
The unlikely duo fell in love while working together on a tune for the singer’s upcoming fifth studio album – the follow-up to her 2011 collection Goodbye Lullaby.
An insider told People: “A romantic relationship blossomed as they spent time writing together.
“He makes her so happy. Both of their families could not be more excited.”
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Reader Mail: Brett is Upset
“Brett” writes in from an email account with a different name:
———
to: douchebag1
subject: Delete please!!!!
Hi,
My name is Brett —– from Gadsden, Al. I’m emailing you from my friends gmail account. There are pictures and an article about me on your webpage.
I would like for you to remove them please! Also, I would greatly appreciate it if you could tell me who submitted the information or give me the email address that did it! Thank you!
Brett —-
———
The email address that did it? Who really does anything? Can any of our actions really be construed as choice in this chaotic netherworld of worldly nethers we call the underwear trapeze of life?
I believe it was Ionesco who first posited the notion of the meaningless circuity of life itself impacting any claims to defining the lived experience via the accumulation of knowledge. And by Ionesco, I mean Tommy Lee’s self-aware peen. Which ain’t got nothin’ on what Berle was packin’.
The Ballad of Mack the Nozzle
Like all great douchechoads, the Ballad of Mack The Nozzle tells a dark, sordid tale of a once preening nitgargle who stood on top of the club world, only to sink into a pit of second rate hotties as the years wore down his spirit and his credit rating.
And so we witness the descent. From the peak purity of Francine, to the initial descent to quality but slightly skeezy suckle hotts, and to our present condition, peddling pandas for blow.
Tragic.
But not as tragic as those idiotic face tatts.
And yes, when I get off my lazy ass, The Mack is destined for enshrinement in our hallowed Hall of Scrote.
