Thursday New Poat

Good morning boys and girls and xbrads.

Here’s a fresh poat for everyone.

Scott and LauraW continue their vacation. Beasn continues the home improvement project from hell.

After five years out I’ve started to get recruitment letters asking me if I want to apply for a commission in the Army Reserve. They must be truly desperate for people.

Leon is busy denouncing the moral degredation of today’s youth.  Car in, meanwhile, has had enough of your shit.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent Ethan to Jimbro to get his surgery.  MJ’s busy trying to keep the spice in his marriage.

Wait… where the fuck is Xbrad?

Mare needs a little encouragement some mornings.

Shhhh… it’s going to be ok, Pupster.

Should we organize a 21-rep salute?

And now, some music:

This pretty much sums up how I feel most days. But then I realize that I have you assholes as my fake internet friends, and everything is going to be alright.

This one’s just plain fun. As is this one.

Go forth and take on the world. Remember, it’s Thursday night, so celebrate.

BBF

Hello lazy dogs, and welcome to Big Boob Friday.

 

 

Your model is from Austria, she stands 5’7″ and measures 38E-26-37 and 118lbs.  Please Grüße das Vaterland and welcome,  Miss Lillith von Titz!

Maximum Minimum Thursday

Oh hi! I’m just a maximally creepy dolphin making sure your doors and windows are secure

Obama II: Cockfacefuckaloo

That last word seems made up but it isn’t. If you search for it on the intertitty you’ll find a wealth of information.

So Obama is back, and this time going to kick ass and use cliches, and he’s all out of cliches. The world is stuck like a deer in the headlights of a sixteen wheel suck mobile, paralyzed at his magnificence–or so the media would have you believe.

The truth, harder than a diamond, and as difficult to swallow as a giant bitter pill is that only a few people actually care; rich old liberals and black women. The rest of us are just trying to get on with our lives. The days of our lives, even.

So please, do us a favor, oh God Emperor of the Early Release Television Series, go the fuck away. Obama could build a speech generator using the words, ‘world, future, change, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, let us, hope, and destiny,’ bridged together with terrible sentence formations and almost no one would notice. Just put up a cardboard cut out and play side A of the tape called ‘Flattering Rich Crackers’ then flip it over to side B, ‘I am Black Also, and Understand You.’

Save everyone else some time, dickface. If we wanted to be talked down to or bored to death we’d use bad grammar in a blog post and wait for Hotspur to show up.

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This man, right here, the one I’m pointing to…is a DICK!!!

Big Phat Poat

Long time commenter and flyboy Phat expressed a fondness in the last poat for Michael Steel, and since he’s looking for entertainment I thought I’d not judge but accommodate his proclivities.

Que Onda, Dicking Bimbos?

Hola bishes. Long time no escribo.

This is a 100% true story that is completely, honestly, 100% on the level with the truth. Estoy siendo honesto, punta maricones. I wouldn’t lie to anyone.

Anonche, en mi cama, I had a vision of a delicious cocktail. Was it the first signs of a budding addiction (it wasn’t)? Was it an implanted memory from our conversation last night (not likely)? Was it a reaction to a brain that will never quite shut off (possibly)? First symptoms of syphilis contracted from your mom (bingo)?

The answer is yes. Never mind what’s in the parenthesis. As you know from watching CNN they like to make sure that headlines are correctomundo as they interpret. But I digress.

What was this sueno de grandeza? It’s the cocktail to end all cocktails. A swanky, frothy, cream filled bananalicious, stripper referencing libation named the Dicking Bimbo!

Grab yourself a blender and get busy with this recipe:

1 oz vanilla or cake flavored vodka

.5 oz brandy

.5 oz banana liqueur (99 bananas is the best)

1 large, phallic banana

2 oz whipping cream

dash cinnamon

ice

Put everything in your addiction mixer and whip it up! It tastes a little like bananas foster, but with a kick. Alcohol content: 6.8 chads. Stripper names: 2.

BBF

Greetings, my friends, and welcome to Big Boob Friday.  Normally, this weekly feature on dis here fine blawg includes some funny gifs, some odd history sometimes.  Mine’s going to try and get it right, but I’m prepared if it doesn’t.  So grab a mug of your favorite morning beverage and keep on scrolling, cats, so you can have a look.

MMM 211: Hostile Work Environment

So I work with a lot of democrats.  They aren’t shy about it, either.  Happily they rush to virtue signal to each other about how “xenophobic” the Trumpkins are, or how Ted Cruz (!) who memorized the Constitution at age 13 nonetheless does not understand it.

Yeah, that Ted Cruz.  The guy who’s won cases before SCOTUS.

I thought having coworkers again would be one nice feature of ceasing the telecommute.

I WAS WRONG.  I’m not a confrontational guy, I don’t want to argue or even talk about politics at work, and I sure as heck don’t want to listen while my coworkers express derision and disdain for me (and most readers of this site), even if unwittingly.

Somehow, some way, this is all to the good.  Some good thing will come out of my disastrous decision to join this endeavor.  I have made every effort to escape, and I keep hitting walls or just plain having bad luck.  So I wait, and I pray, and I look for ways to escape.  I was trying to get out before annual bonuses come out, but it looks less and less likely at this point.

Fluorescent shooooos

I like nice calves.

Christmas flips a tire.

Bellybutton sans lint.

 

She looks fun.

Nice curls.

This is all artistic ‘n’ stuff.

Deadlifts are just as good for the booty as squats, possibly better.

More arty stuff.

Wistfully looking outside.

Week 29 begins.  My whining continues.

HHD

WerdPuss isn’t letting me preview this poat dammit!

torstai