Doesn’t cottage cheese kind of look like the worlds largest and most disgusting load of baby batter you’ve ever seen? It looks like Jesus took a day off, went to a novelty lounge, scrounged for some hot ass and dumped the worlds largest load EVER in a bowl. MMMM it’s rich and creamy and my stomach craves it! Thanks Jesus!

I love when you see someone that’s so drunk you can actually tell what they’re thining just from studying their facial expressions. My personal favorite is the “Ugh, I’m too drunk to stand, I wish I could just make it to the bathroom to hurl all over myself and whatever stupid CUNT is in there! Ugh, if only I could get my one foot in front of the other and end it all. End my fucking life. God damnit why can’t I get laid? Shit i’m fucking pathetic. I’ll just keep drinking until I can’t feel myself. Until I no longer breathe. I hope I just wake up tomorrow and I don’t have a clue where I am. Wait, oh yeah, here it comes, BLAHHHHHFFGHTELRJFOW!!! Whelp…time to go…” That’s got to be my favorite facial expression of ALL TIME!

I think it would be kind of cool for our dollar to completely reverse places in the world’s currency exchange. Like how the Japanese Yen is like 1,000 yen to our  $1 USD. I’d much rather have $1,000 USD that equal 1 Yen. Then we would totally have more. Isn’t bigger better? Yah that’s right. I’ll be president some day. Or at least the voice inside my ass thinks so.

Some blues is cool. Some blues is dumpster; and by dumpster- I mean some stupid chick pretending she’s got a bad-ass voice while she spews diahrrea out of her mouth. That kind of blues belongs in the speakers of rest stop stalls. 

I recently had three guys tell me @ work in Mickey’s Place, Cooperstown NY, that they wanted engraved bats. All three wanted the same engraving: “Roid To Heaven, Coops 2008.” What in the FUCK does that even mean? Either A) They’re retarded, B) They’ve never heard of word association, or C) They’re fuckin’ retarded. Not to mention I also recently had to engrave a Fraternity Bat with the year and initials of the pledges. I wanted to make that bat just about as much as I would like fire to blow out of each hole in my body while my skin slowly started to melt and fall off my disintigrating bones. Fuckin’ Fags. I hope they took turns slowly inserting and rotating that bat as far up each others’ asses as humanly possible; afterwards, they’re insides rotted from AIDS. Yeah I think it’s fair to say I think they sucked.

On that happy note, I’d like to take the time to wish everybody a happy weekend and a fun April Fools day to come! Don’t forget the all-too-familiar plastic-wrap-on-the-toilet- seat-trick. Gag, that’s a hoot! I just hope mom doesn’t punch me in the face again this year…

Mom-aa!! *suck suck suck*

If there’s one thing I know how to do well it’s gettin’ mah’ cock sucked. I mean shit, all I need is this fucking gun. No charm, no manors, no nuthin’. Just good old nickel-plated steel at my finger tips and VOILA! My dick’s gettin’ sucked. I laugh at all those scum bags who sit in bars all night slammin’ on jizz-juice waitin’ for that stupid tranny-whore to give their dick a lick… if they only knew what I know… how to get a dick sucked!

Like just the other day some douche bag in the subway leans over to me and says…

“Man I wish I could get a girl… You look like an attractive guy, how do I get a girl to like me?”

“Well shit man, you want your dick sucked or you want a relationship, or both? Cause I hate relationships, I just like mouth on my cock. That’s easy. Go to your local shop, pick up a 9mm, and PRESTO! OPERATION DICK SUCK! If you’re talkin’ relationship, I don’t know much about that. Been about 15 yrs since I had me my last relationship. And that was with a dirt-devil, so you don’t want my advice on that subject.

The guy looked a little puzzled at me and that was that. I mean fuck, I can’t MAKE somebody want to get their dick sucked, it only comes naturally I guess.

The greatest story I have about a dick suckin’ was at a party I was at about 2 yrs ago- when I first got the idea to use hard-nosed survival dick-suckin’ tactics.

This bitch comes up to me right? She’s all like: “Why don’t you have a g/f?” To which I respond with: “Cause I hate women. I just like my dick sucked.” “Dont you think that’s degrading to women?” She replies. “No.” I say. “I don’t think so. I don’t discriminate dick- suckers. Guy’s, girls, whores, fags, dogs, cats, fruit, jews… they’re all the same. They got a mouth, they can taste this dick!”

Needless to say, she didn’t stick around for the rest of that convo. I guess she’s “one of those” who doesn’t suck it. Whatever, she’ll go to hell when she dies. No skin off my bone.

Later that night I find this sweet pellet gun in my buddies bedroom nightstand next to his condoms. I’m thinkin’… “why is THIS in here?” Than it hits me like a tonsil on a mushroom… You have to MAKE the bitch want the dick!

From that point on, I have had NO PROBLEMO gettin’ me cocko’ sucked! Mark my words; I live in Heaven!

To all you dudes and she-males out there who like the feelin’ of nice, warm, wet mouth on your cock… get yourself I nice trusty, solid-steel, worm burner. The options are endless… skinny, fat, white, black, Hispanic, oriental, Asian, WHATEVER! The sky, jail, cops, and daylight’s the limit! Get it sucked to your heart’s content.

But always remember: Afterwards, if she/he asks for your number… brandish her/him in the side of the head with your weapon and run! No one needs a relationship to fuck up that freedom you’re about to experience. Go on. Live your life. Now with a chip on your shoulder and a gun your pocket. The world is yours and your dick’s getting it sucked one day at a time!

editorial by: Vince Vegas.

Mr. Vegas writes out of his local Green Bistro Dumpster labeled “Sexy Time”

I just recently had a guy tell me he had no idea what make of car his rental was when he checked in. I find this not only unbelievable, but particularly representative of how the world works. Either this dude had no short term memory, like Leonard from the all-to-familiar movie of Memento, he was retarded, or he simply just doesn’t give a fuck about money, what he’s doing, where he’s going, or who he is. I don’t care how much money somebody makes, or where they come from, but to simply not notice, or care about simple details in life like, what fucking make or model of the rental your spending hundreds of dollars on is, is just disgusting. I’m glad I’m not that nieve and blahze about the minor details in my life – such as how huge shit can come out of my ass and A) why it doesn’t hurt, B) its amazing ability to camouflage itself with its environment.

I wish Glaceau- makers of Vitamin Water, would battle to the death with Sobe- makers of Life Water, and then finally the world would have only one choice to make, as to which manufacturer of a pointless water product they would like to donate their monopoly money to. I vote on making one universal pointless product called Dumpster Liquid.

Japanese names are so cool sounding. Shigatoshi Hasagawa, Nakada Nagaturu, Akira Kurosawa. American names are not. Clyde Davis, John Smith, Bodunk Fagass. I rest my case.

Cross-eyed people amaze me. Whenever I see someone and they’re noticably cross-eyed I think to myself… “Shit that sucks, I wonder if he thinks the world is all double, or if he thinks he’s just fucking nuts… anyway you look at it, good luck with the penis to vagina thing!!

I love when innocent signs that direct unknowing patrons to otherwise unknown locations for random shit goes wrong. Such as a simple sign that says: “Tool Sale”- and points the arrow in the general direction and gives an indefinite distance such as, just miles ahead. I’d like to do that sometime with a sign that says “Free Alcohol!”. I’d direct people to a barn where inside shelves and cases FULL of rubbing Alcohol would sit. A sign would accompany this that reads: “Rub One Out Free of Charge! Afterwards, Use This to sterilize your shit-for-brains.“

I watched a chubby bitch lay on a bar last night and lift up her shirt to deliver “body shots” to her friends. I realized something amazing. It’s that innate in some whore’s to attract scum-bag-dick that they forget they aren’t attractive. Sticking feathers in your butt does NOT make you a chicken. Putting alcohol in your navel and having friends suck it out does NOT not make you a whore.

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)

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.

Read this disturbing article…

“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!

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