Friday, December 22, 2006
Popeye

There's been a noted lack of popped collars on the site lately and I am to correct that with this pic. Which is kind of like turning on a light by setting off a neutron bomb. This exploding light-blue ball of popped "L.A. Looks" Tag body O.D.ing poppy seed is a nice way to wake myself up on a Friday by punching myself in the conceptual nutsack.
This little chicklet has taken her first step down the dark road of 'baggery with her sadly cute attempt at a tonguebag pose and fondling of Popeye's poppedness. Like a toddler taking her first tentative steps, she is dipping her toe in the douche pool. We are witnessing one of the earliest stages of a Grieco infection right here.
I'm thinking we need a Jerry Lewis telethon.
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That's a SweeTart on the far right, there, though. I don't care for either of these two in the foreground, though. By 'don't care for' of course I mean detest. Even her. Well, not so much her. But him. Someone ought to yank his fake ID and give him two months of community service, servicing some community somewhere far away. Like the Plains of Antwerp.
This baby-fat tongue 'bag deserves to be impaled from the rooter to the tooter and roasted over an open tire fire, then chopped into little bits and cast into the sun. He's a spikey supernova of scrote.
I think they are a cute couple. and by cute I mean a hideously disgusting douchebag couple that made me just hooch into my trashcan. Shine on you crazy diamonds.
actually, he's "the friend" - you know, that outrageously douchey guy that always ends up as her "friend" because, while appearing spikey and "badass" and often times "trend setting", he really just does google searches on the latest fashions. and by that i mean searching for porn before he puts on the AE polo shirt he got for christmas 4 years ago.
-dbagsupreme
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-dbagsupreme
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