It's a sick game. We psychoanalyze people in pictures. We make up their backstories. And we have a lot of fun doing it.
Friday, July 27, 2007
She looks like she's surprised to say, the number of table accessories that she can stick up her cooter is limited to nine. He's determined that she can handle at least one more.
it has been a long since the last time i visited your blog...
Anyway, your morbid way of cold reading pictures, inspired me to do the same in real life, and of course, repeat it in my own blog, I wont be copying you since mine is in spanish.
He looks like Wayne from accounting who looked forward to this two day business trip to Oklahoma for a LONG time, plotting exactly how he would snag a seat next to Barbara at the farewell dinner. After an extended masturbation session before dinner, he was at last able to pass to her his "most precious gift", which he sometimes refers to as MPG for short. His wife calls him dumbass. His son, Richard, refers to him as " Skeezeball", but secretly admires him for his extensive porno collection. His teacup poodle,Snickers, is often confused as to why they have to move so much.
She looks like Shellie, a single office worker from Maryland. Beside her is her boss, Kevin. Kevin likes good clean toothbrushes, fluffy puppies, and the office standard of Pass the Bronzed Hobo Poo. That is the game they are currently engaged in playing. It is a favorite ever since their founder, James P. Largecock first invented it after one of his favorite partners left him a large turd on the kitchen counter before leaving forever. Of course, the rumors of Largecock’s habits of picking up random hobos from the streets, giving them a shower, a haircut, and a good disinfecting, and then having sex with them for hours were claimed by his estate to be totally unfounded, but the title of the game survived. Shellie personally doesn’t enjoy this game, but as she is trying to get on her boss’s good side and sleeping with him is impossible due to her deep-seated fear of male or female genitalia, this is the best she can do. Shellie is looking down because the person taking this picture is Lynda, the office nymphomaniac. Lynda has just slipped off her stiletto and gotten her foot all the way under Shellie’s skirt, tickling her vagina, reinstating her fear of genitalia, even her own. She has just felt the intrusion when this picture was taken and almost missed the bronzed hobo poo as it was passed around the table. Had she missed it, Kevin, who was seriously considering her for that promotion based dually on her dental care and her obvious enjoyment of the game, would’ve immediately decided to give it instead to Mervin, the slightly-retarded man they were required to hire by affirmative action for whom the game is a familiar reminder of his childhood during which he would routinely play with his brother’s feces in their weekly homosexual molestation rituals. After this picture is taken, Lynda will continue to work her toes deeper into Shellie’s sensitive parts while Shellie continues to grin and bear it, all the while screaming on the inside. Lynda, unaware of her coworker’s fear of genitalia, keeps going for almost an hour, driving Shellie closer and closer to a phobic attack in the middle of the restaurant. Luckily, she will be able to escape when the game finally ends as Phyllis drops the bronzed hobo poo and has to do the required strip dance for the entire office. This, of course, results in the group being from the restaurant, and Phyllis promising to finish the dance at the office on Monday. Shellie, will go home and silently cut herself on the inner thighs as tears run down her cheeks because she is too afraid to cut off her own twat as she so desperately wants to. Lynda, thinking that she has hopelessly aroused and frustrated one of her coworkers, will go home to her two boyfriends, her girlfriend, and her midget don, and have wild raucous sex for hours, all the while thinking of Shellie’s strained, white face while she was manipulating her undercarriage. Kevin will go home and compulsively brush his teeth until they bleed, thereby staining yet another toothbrush which he will immediately discard. He will then cuddle one of his many fluffy, cotton filled puppies which he must substitute for real ones due to an unfortunate run in with PETA a few years back and decide to give Mervin that promotion anyway because he didn’t like the way Shellie had sweated during that last round of Pass the Bronzed Hobo Poo. Three years later Shellie will attempt to remove her own genitalia in a fit of drunken rage and will unobtrusively bleed to death over the course of a day and a half. She will even go to work the day after the unsuccessful surgery, wearing through several pads throughout the course of the day, and although her coworkers will recall her obvious pallor when questioned, it will mostly be out of a sense of responsibility rather than actually noting the condition at the time. Lynda will not remember ever having made advances upon her and will certainly not connect her behavior the night of the game to Shellie’s suicide. In fact, she will be largely indifferent to the suicide, finding solace in her lovers. Kevin will secretly wonder if by passing her over on the promotion he didn’t drive her to suicide, but will forget such thoughts as he brushes his teeth on his lunch break. Mervin will live to be seventy three and have eight children by four wives all of which will perish in childbirth.
She looks like she is wondering how to eat the soup the waiter just dumped into her lap. With the waiter on the floor in complete hysterics, she also realizes now why her brother, Cecil, told her she needed to wear white. White pants and split pea soup make a lovely combination. She will shove that hunk of bread Cecil is handing her, up his butt.
Oh lovely site! I'm gonna be hanging out here. Found you through DMOZ. You can find some funny stuff on my site (yeah this sounds like a spammer but I'm not). Welcome to Wallyworld, à bientôt, Malkie, Paris
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good. you can send pics or holler at me at brokenhalo6@gmail.com
10 comments:
it has been a long since the last time i visited your blog...
Anyway, your morbid way of cold reading pictures, inspired me to do the same in real life, and of course, repeat it in my own blog, I wont be copying you since mine is in spanish.
To me it looks like she's been keeping the food... warm.
He looks like Wayne from accounting who looked forward to this two day business trip to Oklahoma for a LONG time, plotting exactly how he would snag a seat next to Barbara at the farewell dinner. After an extended masturbation session before dinner, he was at last able to pass to her his "most precious gift", which he sometimes refers to as MPG for short. His wife calls him dumbass. His son, Richard, refers to him as " Skeezeball", but secretly admires him for his extensive porno collection. His teacup poodle,Snickers, is often confused as to why they have to move so much.
She looks like Shellie, a single office worker from Maryland. Beside her is her boss, Kevin. Kevin likes good clean toothbrushes, fluffy puppies, and the office standard of Pass the Bronzed Hobo Poo. That is the game they are currently engaged in playing. It is a favorite ever since their founder, James P. Largecock first invented it after one of his favorite partners left him a large turd on the kitchen counter before leaving forever. Of course, the rumors of Largecock’s habits of picking up random hobos from the streets, giving them a shower, a haircut, and a good disinfecting, and then having sex with them for hours were claimed by his estate to be totally unfounded, but the title of the game survived. Shellie personally doesn’t enjoy this game, but as she is trying to get on her boss’s good side and sleeping with him is impossible due to her deep-seated fear of male or female genitalia, this is the best she can do. Shellie is looking down because the person taking this picture is Lynda, the office nymphomaniac. Lynda has just slipped off her stiletto and gotten her foot all the way under Shellie’s skirt, tickling her vagina, reinstating her fear of genitalia, even her own. She has just felt the intrusion when this picture was taken and almost missed the bronzed hobo poo as it was passed around the table. Had she missed it, Kevin, who was seriously considering her for that promotion based dually on her dental care and her obvious enjoyment of the game, would’ve immediately decided to give it instead to Mervin, the slightly-retarded man they were required to hire by affirmative action for whom the game is a familiar reminder of his childhood during which he would routinely play with his brother’s feces in their weekly homosexual molestation rituals. After this picture is taken, Lynda will continue to work her toes deeper into Shellie’s sensitive parts while Shellie continues to grin and bear it, all the while screaming on the inside. Lynda, unaware of her coworker’s fear of genitalia, keeps going for almost an hour, driving Shellie closer and closer to a phobic attack in the middle of the restaurant. Luckily, she will be able to escape when the game finally ends as Phyllis drops the bronzed hobo poo and has to do the required strip dance for the entire office. This, of course, results in the group being from the restaurant, and Phyllis promising to finish the dance at the office on Monday. Shellie, will go home and silently cut herself on the inner thighs as tears run down her cheeks because she is too afraid to cut off her own twat as she so desperately wants to. Lynda, thinking that she has hopelessly aroused and frustrated one of her coworkers, will go home to her two boyfriends, her girlfriend, and her midget don, and have wild raucous sex for hours, all the while thinking of Shellie’s strained, white face while she was manipulating her undercarriage. Kevin will go home and compulsively brush his teeth until they bleed, thereby staining yet another toothbrush which he will immediately discard. He will then cuddle one of his many fluffy, cotton filled puppies which he must substitute for real ones due to an unfortunate run in with PETA a few years back and decide to give Mervin that promotion anyway because he didn’t like the way Shellie had sweated during that last round of Pass the Bronzed Hobo Poo. Three years later Shellie will attempt to remove her own genitalia in a fit of drunken rage and will unobtrusively bleed to death over the course of a day and a half. She will even go to work the day after the unsuccessful surgery, wearing through several pads throughout the course of the day, and although her coworkers will recall her obvious pallor when questioned, it will mostly be out of a sense of responsibility rather than actually noting the condition at the time. Lynda will not remember ever having made advances upon her and will certainly not connect her behavior the night of the game to Shellie’s suicide. In fact, she will be largely indifferent to the suicide, finding solace in her lovers. Kevin will secretly wonder if by passing her over on the promotion he didn’t drive her to suicide, but will forget such thoughts as he brushes his teeth on his lunch break. Mervin will live to be seventy three and have eight children by four wives all of which will perish in childbirth.
She looks like she is wondering how to eat the soup the waiter just dumped into her lap. With the waiter on the floor in complete hysterics, she also realizes now why her brother, Cecil, told her she needed to wear white. White pants and split pea soup make a lovely combination. She will shove that hunk of bread Cecil is handing her, up his butt.
Oh lovely site! I'm gonna be hanging out here. Found you through DMOZ. You can find some funny stuff on my site (yeah this sounds like a spammer but I'm not). Welcome to Wallyworld, à bientôt, Malkie, Paris
this site is great!
my house
This looks like...something awesome. I'm a fan.
What's a cooter? And who is Barbara Fazio?
Rather useful message
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