What better way to honor wymyn of all types by objectifying them? I guess they could all get off their lazy asses and make me a sammich, but just posing for the camera is enough for today. Thanks bishes. *slap on the ass.
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But before we get to the wymyns, let’s take a moment to sing an ode of pure romance, aimed squarely at the pulsing, throbbing, emotional side of these lovely lasses that possess massive chesticles. OR DOES IT?
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Yes please!
Well, Roamy’s been a bit preoccupied, what with Mr. RFH’s fender bender earlier this week, so you ladies are stuck with this old lady’s version of Hunky Hunks…
The original 007, Sean Connery – still got it:
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The man, the legend, the moustache, Sam Elliott – still got it:
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Just wanted you guys to see this nifty plate that Teresa in Fort Worth sent me. Scott and I were befuddled at first until we read the little card that came with this carton. Then we looked closer at the item we were holding in our hands and laughed our butts off.
Yes, that is a squadron of flying monkeys terrorizing the denizens of tranquil Blue Willow Township. Made by Calamityware, a kickstarter project that seems to have made its nut. There are other designs too; robot invasions and such. Hilarious!
Thanks Teresa!! My mom still has a lot of her blue willow plates. I’m going to find an excuse to serve something to her on this one and see if she notices, heh.
And they rent awful movies to my wife? They do! And they do!
She’s watching The Internship. It was the least-bad option of the three she rented. It’s painful so far. The faster I finish this poat, the faster I can escape it.
So, let’s go. Time for a rope trick.
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This seems like a good random blog to hack into and put up some terrible bullshit. And what’s with the obsession with big boobs around here? It’s unseemly and douche-baggy. Big boobs don’t belong on the internet said not one person at no time ever.
I occasionally watch this direct access cable show called Ms. NBC. I think it’s some high school kids fucking around with their dad’s equipment because sometimes their alcoholic father Ed comes home after work and finds them playing with his shit and he totally loses it. He turns red and starts sweating and randomly yelling incoherently about THE WORKERS IN THIS COUNTRY. It’s pretty scary.
For a channel named after a feminist who prefers unfamiliar black men as sexual partners I don’t think they have enough nudity on Ms. NBC yet I digress. In the evening they have a show by this LGBT&A person WHO TALKS REALLY ENTHUSIASTICALLY in all CAPS and ITALICS about what that LGBT&A person considers to be important news.
Hello Bags of Douche, and welcome to Big Boob Friday. It is I, your talented and oft taken-for-granted host, Pupster.
Capital Em Capital Jay is looking to have a more personal, real world encounter with at least one boob today, so I’m filling in and wishing him the best.
I wrote this song for Cyn after she broke my heart by telling me a cross-country and cross-species relationship would never work, and that I smelled funny and not in the hah-hah way.
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Your model for today lives in Miami, Florida. She is more on the wholesome side of the skankometer, so I hope you will indulge her C cups and not make her feel too self conscious. Please turn off your flight transponders and give a warm welcome to super-model and totally not a stripper, Miss Ashley Sky!
As we discussed in a previous thread, Dave, Scott, and I are going to spend some time picking up chicks and dismantling them this weekend. It’s how we roll.*
After careful review of this chart, it appears that the murder rate has dipped, most likely due to the massive increase in lemons imported to this country. Fear not. We are on the case. What is happening to these lemons? Where are they being secreted?
God only knows. And by god I mean your ass.
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