Friday Haiku
Better watch out, Girl…
Urinal Lotta Trouble.
I’d pee in her butt.
Hair from a bottle.
Clothes courtesy of the nearest
Tuxedo Junction.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Blow job now finished
She wonders how big a tip
Dickhead’s gonna pay
— Wedgie
Shelly contemplates
Existential dilemma;
Puke in sink or floor?
— hermit
Chad gets a pic of
latest bathroom conquest. She
ponders, “What’s his name?”
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
heroin chic chick
shoots up in the wrong bathroom
douche moves in for kill
— Douche Springsteen
Sheila contemplates
pulling out her black butt plug.
Its a Tad. Too Big.
— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
I admire her
still trying to look sexy
in front of piss-holes
— Medusa Oblongata
I hate to be rude
but your bride is a gross skank
get a good lawyer
— Medusa Oblongata
I’ll take “Hairstyles That
Died in the Eighties” for two
hundred, Alex, please.
— UFO Destroyers
He looks plaintively
Into the midde distance
She sees cum on shoes
— McCrude
Bathroom Rondevous
Meat Curtains on Marble Tile
Scrotal Slap Echo
— Doucheywallnuts
The Smell of Stale Balls
Is it From the Urinals?
Or is it Her Breath?
— Doucheywallnuts
Hey baby, I will
Adorn you in pearls and cake
Yes, urinal cakes
— Vin Douchal
Porcelain thrones gleam
not utilized. Both the king
and queen sit to pee.
— army (ret) douche
Uberbro Meltdown
Forget adding up the signifiers. The douche counting machine just melted down into a pile of toxic poo.
There is no coming back from witnessing this atrocity.
We are all through the rabbit hole now.
Homie Gregg and Dahlia Roll With the Benjamin
That’s like a hundred dolla bill, y’all!!
You know what that could buy?!?
At least six Chia Pet Handmade Decorative Planter PuppyKits
Shirtlessness. The Choad Warrior Way.
Zed and Alberto may not be douchetatted oysterwanks like we normally see on this site.
But let there be no mistake about it.
Roaming the halls of clubland to pose with confused blonde giggle hots while twitching the upper abs area is auto violation.
I would normally express this more creatively, but I need caffeine. And so I shall imbibe. Be right back. Talk amongst yourselves.
Let It Pee
Biker Mike Asshatsky.
Hits on Bartender Hottie Heather.
There will be a crotch itch.
Let it pee.
And in happy hour of shotness.
Mother Mary tatts to me.
Speaking words of douchedom.
Let it pee.
Let it pee.
Let it pee!
Let it pee.
Let it pee.
Just ignore the burning, let it pee, let it pee.
Esoteric Wednesday
Arincapart Lionheart likes to dance to pan flutes.
Goldilocks and The Three Beards
Oh Katie on the far right, how I see your joyful glee. Like September rain or another stupid 80s song, I take you for karaoke and wine shooters until you have to go pee, and the bathroom is too dirty, and so we wander the streets of Minneapolis and make out by a mailbox.
And then I go home.
For the stains of Marty’s facial pubes are uponst your neck, and the tragedy is too much for me to overcome. Even as you cry a plaintive “Woo!” in the distance as I walk away.
"Die Antwoord" Freaks Out David Letterman
Brilliant surrealist performance art?
Gussied up Eurotrash by way of South African douchepuddlery?
You know where I stand. I have chunks of edgier rebellion in my stool.
Jeff's 10 Degree Hat Tilt
10 Degree Hat Tilt.
Still out there.
Still hitting on Angie like it’s 2007.
Mike Wins At The Game Of Life
I got nothin’ on this guy. Nothin, I tells you.
Even the faux 70s glasses aren’t enough to convict. And so, by the by-laws I was sworn to uphold and without evidence to convict, I must acquit.
It pains me to do so. But it is true.
A begrudging Nottadouche and goinpeace, Mike. Even though I have my suspicions of douchery.
Cheryl, you are the hottest purity of suckle pooch to grace the butt globble since the days Tristam Shandy entertained the proletariat whilst robber barons stole. I drink the perfection milkshake of your cheekbones, dream of slapping your outer thigh with red licorice, and whimper for the inevitable tragedy of the corporeal form that awaits us all.
