Merry Christmas To All…

I call Dibbs On the Hag With Glasses…

Senior Hags bare all for charity holiday calender.

Anybody up for some cottage cheese tits and mouse-trap crotch?

(click on pic for video link)

Speaking of Dumpster Babies…

There are many things in this world that I hate and can’t stand; Dane Cook is absolutely one of them. Dane made is way onto the scene many years ago- circa 1998- in Harvard Square at a show called- To Catch a Rising Star- hosted at the time by comedian David Cross.
He has appeared on Comedy Central Presents and since then has had is own HBO Comedy Hour called Vicious Circle. That shit shoulda been called Vicious Diarrhea. He has also been awarded the rolls in over 15 films- those all incorporating amazing performances of a “no talent ass-clown.”

My personal favorite has got to be Employee of the Month which he co-starred in with actress/singer/songwriter/pig-blower/ass-chin/father-fucker, Jessica Simpson. Ohhhh the chemistry those two shared on screen. I’d compare it to that time I took a dump in my pants and proceeded to see how long it would take my ass cheeks to chafe from pure McDonald’s waste. That was some great chemistry between me and my ass!

There was also that movie he starred in with Jessica Alba this past summer…what was that called? I’m gay don’t worry about it? Shit, I don’t remember. In any event, that movie was probably equally as awesome and I’m sure they had some hot, steamy, wet, tea after those script readings.

Aside from his movie career as of late, I just don’t get it . I don’t think he’s funny. I think drunk people who can barely speak are funnier than him. I see drunk tards’ all the time at my local bar who I’d much rather stand aside from and laugh to their face at than listen to Dane Cook. Waiting was a perfect example of this. His entire roll in that movie is to be the punk, smart-ass, prep-cook who likes to fuck with people’s food. I think the only thing he said in that entire movie of any substance was “Fuck yeah…”

He made his start in stand-up. I’m not gonna say that I didn’t laugh at his first Comedy Central Presents, cause’ I did. However, after further review and multiple airings of that special, I realize now what I actually was laughing at was how fuckin’ retarded he actually is. Anybody can stand up in front of a buncha’ drunk retards and spew on and on about how life sucks and how you “wish you had alien blood.” Wow, that took some deep thinking and clever writing prose to come up with a bit like that…”I WISH I HAD THAT. FUCK YEAH, ALIEN BLOOD. WEEE I’M A FUCKING RETARD!! AREN’T I HOT LADIES…TOO BAD I’M A FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE FAG!”

That brings me to another point. I don’t ever remember hearing of any celebrity who actually likes Dane Cook. Every column or any article I’ve ever seen regarding him talks about what a cock-sucker he is. I’m speaking figuratively of course, but this could also be takin’ literally I’m sure; *wink* *wink* Dane!

I just remembered a time I was driving to Oneonta and was listening to Rain Man on K-Rock. He had the opportunity to interview Dane Cook on the air a few months back. I never listened in, but Rain Man said he was a huge fuckin’ asshole. All I’m sayin’ is if Rain Man says something you better-well fucking believe it man!!

If any of you who are reading this post have ever seen the movie Mr. Brooks… how great was what happened to Dane Cook at the end of this movie? Oh man…I almost didn’t allow my g/f to rent this movie solely because he was in it. Boy was I happy I let her do it. I was smiling the rest of the week over that one. For all of you who haven’t seen that movie; I highly recommend it. It’s somewhat suspenseful, Kevin Costner plays a pretty good creepy, rich, serial killer, and of course what happens to Dane Cook at the end is “mastercard priceless.”

Plain and simple…Dane Cook is a complete Dumpster Baby.

New Light for the term “Dumpster Baby”

Read this disturbing article…

New Revolution! Big Tittied Hot Bitch Now Handling Your Calls!

“Hello and thank you for calling _ _ _ _ _ ’s customer service line. My name is Eva Hughjugs and I’ll be handling all your inquiries today. May I please get your order number, email address, zip code, driver’s license ID number and deviant sexual desires?

This is going to be a fun journey with us today. Not only are we going to solve your customer disputes, I’m going to get you off, RIGHT OVER THE PHONE! We’ve taken a new approach to customer service this year and want YOU to know that your cock’s throbbing vein is our #2 priority! We don’t only want to see you satisfied at the end of this call, we want that satisfaction to come with a huge, gratifying, unadulterated load of lap-spunk!

Now tell me, what is the problem you’re experiencing today? I’m strokin’ it baby…

Where did you buy this particular item? My tits are hard for you…

Can I get a general description of the circumstances surrounding the issue? I’m a double-D, size 2, and ready for that lonely bologna…

Now what are you looking to accomplish here today with our call? That big meat stuffed inside me. Cook me, heal me, feed me, marry me…

I’ve got an understanding of the issues surrounding your particular problem. Now just let me talk to my supervisor to determine the best course of action for your circumstances. OOOhhhhh punch me! Punch me! Harder! Harder!

We’ve decided to honor our money-back guarantee and would like to know the best place to issue you your refund check. JIZZZ BOMBBBBB!!! MONEY LOAD!! I’M DRIPPING! DRIPPING! DRIPPING!

Your case ID# is _ _ _ _ _ _. Your new fuck-friend value code is 696969.

Is there anything else I can help you with today? Cum back soon big boy. I would luv to handle you again! Muah!!”

It’s pretty unsettling to me how when looking for customer service articles, you always seem to find that 3/4 of the information on customer service pages has some form of a picture of some hot female sitting at a desk with a huge smile on her face. Those perfect tits, perfect white-toothed smile, long flowing hair and mini-skirt are bullshit. Almost every fucking service line you call, (if centered in the United States) is some big fat bitch with no life, no friends, and doesn’t give a fuck about how you feel. They’re probably playing solitaire on their cubicle computer like Peter from Office Space and are pissed off because you interrupted their 3rd donut-and-coffee break. If the call is NOT centered in the U.S. it’s definitely in India somewhere; probably in Bombay. The guy will speak with a heavy Indian accent and will have some common, bullshit, American-cliche name, like Rob or John. I had a friend in college from Bombay and he said 85% of the jobs there are customer service center’s for American-based companies.

It’s only fair in today’s technological society- with all the bullshit and hassle that accompanies customer service- that we combine phone-based sex hotlines, with customer service/satisfaction. At least if you’re going to call to bitch somebody out about some connector on your ipod vibrator’s automated anal-bead headphones jack, you can get off while you do it. Ease the stress a little. That’s all I’m sayin’. Get me off and I’ll get off the phone. Put me off and I’ll fucking stab you!

Now On the Market for Bro’s

My name’s Earl and I totally realize now why queers like dudes. I’m sick of my honkin’ wife. What a fuckin’ bitch. She won’t even clean the lint out my belly no more. Fuckin’ whore. I sometimes wish she was a dude. Then we could totally do all sortsa shit together and not have to worry about that male-female, counterpart, Adam and Eve, serpent horeshit. We could just sit around, watch Nascar, football, monster truck rally’s, whatever we want…and fuck! Shit man, no strings attached; no emotions, no tears…well maybe a few. Just good ol’ bro’s hangin’ out and fuckin’.

I could totally get over that whole male-on-male nausea. I only fuck my wife in the ass now anyway. Ever since that shit kid of ours’ head got jammed in the ol’ birth hole, she swore she’d never let another piece of man-meat touch her lower lips. Fuckin’ whore. Now I just put it in her ass and pretend she’s my best friend Tucker.

Oh the good times that fuckin’ asshole and I have. Why can’t my wife be Tucker? Her ass sure as hell ain’t Tucker’s. She don’t cut logs all day and load em into the back of that red, duel-wheeled, twin-cab hemi like Tucker. I bet she don’t even know what Hemi means. Fuckin’ whore. Tucker does. I’d have him screamin’ Hemi all night…if you know what I mean.

At BOCES me and some other dudes used to get together after school and watch porn and jerk off together. No we ain’t fuckin’ queers, we just figured it’s better than bein’ alone. Male bonding is the best after school activity. We just stepped it up a notch or two and made it a free-for-all, dude jerk-fest. I once beat Tucker’s record of 10 straight baby-batter loads in 10 minutes. That fuckin’ asshole. Man he could jerk a dick. Anybody wantin’ to learn a thing er two about jerkin’ should call up my buddy Tucker. His number can be found in the Yellow Pages under “Loggers & Hoggers.”

Yeah I’m definitely on the market now for Bro’s. Anybody wantin’ a real down-to-earth, handy-man call up Earl. I work hard, play harder and don’t give no back-talk. I fuck good and know what a Bro wants. Sex, drugs and rock & roll are my life and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some stupid whore-wife fuck that all up fer me. Let’s get to know each other and become great friends and even better Bro’s. I don’t mind switchin’ it up and takin’ it either. I love to give it, but as long as you don’t sound like my cunt wife and ask me to put the toilet seat down after ass-makin’ you and me could have a long, bright friendship ahead of us.

Get err done!

Call me up! (555-555-5555)
Internet Mail me: brosainthoes@stinkdick.cum

Boss Nigger

This video was passed along to me by a friend. I totally want this fuckin’ movie and I think everybody should own it. As well as one negro.

Elephantitus of the Sexy

This came up while I was searching for the term “douche.” I had no idea that douche also meant huge retarded elephantitus ass bitch. She has three asses. Peep em- one where it should be, another 90 yr old ass below it, and even her lower calf muscles make an extremely fuckable ass- crease.

I wanna go bobbin’ for apples in that shit. Better yet, bobbin’ for babies. Cheers black men! Here is your Holy Grail…

Pubic Hair’s, Scissors, Fat People

 

W ell first off I don’t wanna disappoint anyone but this post doesn’t really have anything to do with pubic hairs, cutting of pubic hairs (though I could tell an interesting story) or eating them. Actually, it doesn’t really have anything to do with fat people either. I was just gonna spew about my recent haircut and the erroneous conversation that always accompanies this act and while writing the title, “pubic hair,” fat people,” and “scissors” just seemed to gel.

I basically hate talking while I’m getting my hair cut. Secondly, I don’t understand why the person cutting your hair thinks that you actually want to talk to them. Maybe I’m just an asshole, but motherfucker, I don’t wanna talk to you. I wanna get my damn hair cut, pay you your outrageous flat rate for my “male cut” and be on my way. It usually starts with something like this:

Hair stylist: “Well the sun is finally coming out now. Isn’t that nice?”

Me: “Yeeup.”

Hair stylist: “What’s new? Anything? How’s work?”

Me: “Work’s alright.” (I want to say, “Fuck you! Work sucks my balls bitch. How’s your work? You like cutting hair every day? Each and every fucking day of the week? I bet some people have lice don’t they? I bet you wanna fucking chop their heads off when they do don’t you? Good now let me fart in piece. *Farrrrttttttttttt*

The whole act of talking while your getting something done to you that physically can’t be stopped (ie. hair growing, tumor removal surgery, abortion scraping) just pisses me off. I don’t wanna be there, and I’m sure you don’t either. But it’s your job, so shut the fuck up and do it. When you’re done, I’ll either be pleased or displeased (in the event that your tumor removal or abortion scraping surgery had some complicated malfunction or inadvertent failure that results in terminal infection- dead,) and be on my way. End of story, end of thought.

PS- I just remembered where the “fat people” came from in my brain while I was writing the title of this post.

While my g/f and I were enjoying a casual lunch at a local eatery/cafe this enormous bitch walks in. The kind of enormous where both legs can’t establish their own “zone” kinda shit…you know what I’m talkin’ about… She proceeds to ask the chef something. They were on a first name basis. I thought to myself, “Damn she’s fuckin’ fat. She knows the chef too. Not surprised. I bet she’s getting a second lunch. Stupid fat ass.

Hello Dumpster Divers

H ello Dumpster Divers and welcome to yet another DeCone/DeCrook/DeConanburgh blog. I keep losing interest in my blogs and making new ones. Let’s hope this one keeps the wood burning in my fuck-nut-brain fireplace. ZHANG!! ZHANG!!
 
I don’t really know why I posted this picture. I think it’s mainly b/c I meant to Photoshop the words “Zhang Zhang,” but when I realized how long Photoshop takes to download, I said “fuck it” and Google image searched the words and this was the first photo that came up in the search. Coincidentally, there is actually an ice skating duo named “Zhang-Zhang.”I don’t know if the two are a marital pair, or simply siblings, perhaps both are true. I hope so; a Chinese, inbred, sibling, husband/wife combo ice skating pair seems like a really interesting combo to me.