Aussie Douchebags 2013: "The Difference Between Wogs and Aussies"
This is pure genius. “I love Sex and the City!” “I love sex.” for the win.
Aussie douchebags are easily the most entertaining of the Foreignbag subgenus. They’re like feral puppies in search of chow.
Wallnuts After Dark: What's With This Friggin' Cosplay Gig?
A couple a weeks ago my sister Josephine’s kid comes home, my niece Juliana, and she’s talkin about goin to somethin called a Cosplay Party where these kids all dress up like characters from video games and movies, or some shit like that. So Josephine asks me what I knows about it. And I says to her, “Me?!?” I says, “Why you askin’ me?”, I says, “I don’t know nuttin’ about nuttin’ when it comes to what these kids today is doin’.”
And then when I goes to The Google I finds that this Copslay is something grown-ups do, too. Dressin’ up like chicks and guys and creatures from video games and other fictional crap. But it ain’t just dressin up, it’s actin like these fake characters, too. What the Fucc is up wit that? Kids have enough problems actin like kids, now they gotta go an act like some fake people that ain’t even people? A frustratione!
So now I hear from some half-a-Finnoch down at the Barber Shop that they’s havin a Cosplay Party for adults at the local Casa Columbo on the same night where we’s planned to have our annual Casino Night, the proceeds of which are supposed to benefit the St. Philomena Fund for dames who’s widows, and some a them orphans, too.
So Moose an Rocco ain’t too keen on this whole Cosplay development since Casino Night gives them some cover for them to go an see their Goomads instead a havin to go to their mother-in-law’s house for Lasagna and Canasta, which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Lasagna and Canasta, I says.
So Moose an Rocco decides to head on over to the Casa to see what this whole Cosplay thing is about on their way over for Lasagna and Canasta. They park their Caddy in the lot and as they’s watchin’ this parade a Mama Lukes walkin into our place they’s call me on The Cell Phone and says, “Wallnuts,” they says, “It’s a friggin’ freak show over here with all a these schnooks dressed like Super Heros and people from The Star Trek and The Star Wars!” Schnooks, I says.
So Moose an Rocco had ta leave cuz their wives was callin’ to see where they was – they married twin sisters – and tole them they better get themselves goin’. But I heard from some a the bartenders at the Casa that there was all kinds a weird stuff goin on, details a which weren’t forthcoming.
I can’t imagine what they get out a dressin’ like someone they ain’t and pretendin’ they can do things they can’t. Back in the day these folks woulda been tole to snap the Fucc outta it and get wit the program. Today these j’drools think it’s a good thing. Madonna Mia!
Friday Thoughts and Links
Fashion.
Like taking a dump on coherency by way of anal plutonium.
That’s my new slogan and I’m sticking to it.
Because I know fashion.
Why, just the other week, I asked HC1 if my Land of the Lost sweater vest would clash with my gaberdine suit. And bow tie which was really a camera.
Cathy, I’m lost, I said as we boarded a greyhound. Which was odd because her name is not cathy, and it is very hard to board a dog. Even a large one.
My references are so out of date, they smell like moldy gouda.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Please Buy Something on Amazon To Help Pay for the Site link of the week: “Woo woo woo!! Hey Hey Hey!!”
This is not an appropriate way to remove an appendix.
Do you have a hose that grows in your pocket? Would you like to?
The future of entertainment: Ryan Gosling Won’t Eat His Cereal.
When I think of Pear Domination, this is not what I think of.
Why yes, I would like a side order of confusion.
Kisseus Vomitorious lives in an NWA video from 1992.
Okay, I got nuthin’. So here’s your Pear:
The purity of essence of femininity as imagined by fifteen year olds who read comics.
Friday Haiku
Jim Bob suffered from
Alopecia of the chest;
It drove him to drink.
Rolling a fatty
Now means something different
Than it used to mean
Na mean?
— DoucheyWallnuts
He shaves his manboobs
Since the gyroscope was put
In her Monkey Hole.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Years of busting through
walls reduced Kool-Aid Guy to
mental four year old.
— Douche Wayne
Indian princess
stay away from the crab cakes
of D. B. Sasquatch
— FredN.
Hott prepares to roll
Shamu back to his blue sea
As his shock sets in
— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
Show me your landing
strip, I’ll show you mine, said Chuck.
Not a chance said Kim
— Magnum Douche P. I.
The evils of the demon rum,
causes you to pass out,
and get your chest shaved poorly.
— I R A Darth Aggie
A Sphincter Says, "Shriveled Nads?"
Oh, to reference the great comedies of the pre-internet times of innocence and joyousness.
Oh, and them rocky cliffs are douchier than a post-coital Richard Grieco at an Axe Bodyspray convention.
Your Thursday Poem
The night starry,
She enters the club to pulsing techno,
It cannot be unseen.
Purple diarrhea,
flows like molten douchelava,
A willow harks,
A sparrow chirps,
Into the night…
into the night…
Purple diarrhea head saunters into the strobes.
Asian Justin Bieber Pays to Pose with Sophie
Asian Justin Bieber is convinced that with just the right breaks, he’ll be like the Anglo Psy.
In a related story, Fibonacci used Anglo Psy to confuse Fermat during a game of checkers one night in Oslo back in ’22.
Yup. Got nuthin’.
Not even coffee.
Time for tea.
I hate tea.
I blame your moms.
HCwDB After Dark: Send in The Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts
Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Boobs here at last on the ground,
Legs in mid-air.
Send in the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts.
Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps drinking shots of Patron,
One who can’t move.
Where are the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts?
Send in the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts.
Just when I’d stopped popping my collar,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual bling,
Sure of my bodyspray,
My crotch it does sting.
Don’t you love boobs?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts?
Quick, send in the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts.
Don’t bother, they’re here.
Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it douchey,
Losing my timing this late
In my something that rhymes with douchey?
And where are the Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts?
There ought to be Paid-to-Pose Slutty Hotts.
Well, maybe…. next… year.
When Herpsters Play With Phallic Straws
Brunette Katie’s lithe luscious litheness makes Sutekh’s glowey eyes vibrate with synaptic desire.
Sadly, the cost of buying Brunette Katie an appletini makes the DB1 punch an arthritic donkey nadsack with a rotten plum.
Whether I punched that arthritic donkey’s nadsack with a rotten plum, or whether the arthritic donkey’s nadsack contained a rotten plum when I punched it, I will leave to the vagaries of the English language.
Game of Martinis: Homie Greg in the Land of the Inflated Melons
Angry Cersei Lannister will definitely be teaching Greg about how to play the Game of Thrones.
And by Game of Thrones, I mean Game of Overpriced Martinis.
Seriously, if that show introduces any more hanging subplots, I’m gonna cut off a nipple.
