Pop Quiz
Pop Quiz time, kids:
Is a stupid scripty chest tatt enough, by itself, to mark autodouche in presence of Perfect Hot Bod Milkshake Kayla?
A. Yes
Answer now!
Friday Haiku
Michael Bay – King Douche
Pitches concept to Tyson:
“Mike’s Wong Wife Choithes”
Her hair’s gone afro
Since the gyroscope was put
In her monkey hole.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Interracial date
In bizarre love triangle;
John Largeman is watching.
— Douche Springsteen
Number one salesman
At Vegas Bling convention
Wins Mike “Meet and Greet”
— Vin Douchal
Mike Tyson’s next bout
Wynn’s All You Can Eat Buffet
He’ll be champ again
— Magnum Douche P.I.
Baybag blows shit up
Tyson bag blows career up
Douchery never ends
— Capt. James T. Douche
“To Wong Fu, With Love
Needed way more explosions!”
Cocaine-ramble-mouth.
— Douche Wayne
Mike was wife-beater,
can we hope he becomes a
douche beater as well?
— Morbo
Sometimes It's All Just a Big Pile Of Flush
I know intellectually that Mindy Perkenboobs deserves a better level of mock than this post is providing. Her Cleavite does not deserve poke by “Ultimate Steel Pound Machine,” the winner of last Fall’s Battle of the Bands at Decatur High School.
But I can’t summon the mock today. Sorry, Mindy. I will, however, masticate uponst your grandmother’s discarded doily that once briefly brushed your thigh area while changing for swim practice.
Sheboygan HCwDB Is Not Really That Impressive
You want fancy douchebaggery in presence of hot chick in rural Wisconsin? They can’t even get cable TV there.
Pec Wings
Still out there.
Still pissing in the Dalai Llama’s cornflakes.
But on my deathbed, I will achieve total consciousness. So I got that going for me.
The Breitbart Dies
Two weeks ago, the raging gasbag known as the Breitbart was our Honorary Douchebag of the Month.
I try not to make sarcastic cracks about the recently deceased, especially those with kids. But I’ll reserve mourning for those who deserve it.
Hot Chick with Sarah Jessica Parker
Yeah, it’s Wednesday and I got nuthin’.
Time for your humble narrator to head to the kitchen, pile up a Turkey and Swiss, and down it with a Mr. Pibb and a tasty side dish of still-in-production Hostess Cherry Pie.
And a gander at a pear chomp suckle boobie hottie suckle thigh don’t hurt neither.
Beat that last sentence, Homi Bhabha.
Coleman Goes to Vegas
Between Coleman’s eyeliner and Suzy’s lack of sandwich consumption, lets just move on.
Mickey The Polyp Buys Savannah A Drink and Shames Her Ancestors
Lessie… count ’em.
Greasytracks, chin fung, Jesus bling, stupid face, moob shirt, all make Mikey the Polyp a retched excuse for Jerz Guid.
Savannah’s taught leather dress calls for feline metaphors and a vat of Crisco.
Yonder hills are filled with helium and shame.
