Downtown Hotelmarried white male seeking NSA fun. Nice guy, safe to be with. Looking for a friend to enjoy the morning and maybe the afternoon with. Room service included.
Kip xxx-xxx-xxxx
WWHM used to have a small audience of doe-eyed and dainty society ladies in butter-churning bonnets visiting our blog on a daily basis, giggling innocently into their tiny cupped fingers as they sipped hot chamomile tea and painstakingly knitted tiny earmuffs for handicapped children in Botswana.
Today, posting to WWHM is like hurling bloody slabs of gazelle meat into a pit of starved wolves. Disturbed WWHM female readers scream relentlessly for disgusting cock pics on WWHM, banging their machine-dulled utensils upon the stainless steel surfaces of bolted down prison tables, oblivious to the trembling guards in lab coats at their sides wielding high voltage cattle prods and cannisters of tear gas. What are you, a bunch of fucking Vikings?
Believe me, I'm surrounded with so many cock pics at WWHM headquarters you'd think my office was located deep inside Nadya Sulman's 24-hour fucking cocaine party of a womb. Every morning I open my email inbox, I'm assaulted with an armada of greased penises fully capable of extinguishing the white-hot hydrogen fueled flames of the Hindenberg with a protein-rich and adhesive stream of stunted fucking genetics. Yet WWHM finally bows to community pressure today, and presents you with a personal ad from Kip. Or, I should say, Kip's penis.
Because yes, that is a penis, and Kip offers it up to you in the same manner a white-gloved waiter might lift a silver tray of elegant European cheeses to your nose for an inviting sniff. Sniff not my friends, as the sour stench of desperation is overwhelming; I'm not saying Kip set the bar low for his weak effort at getting laid, but at first glance it appears as though Kip might be casually waiting for a cross-town bus outside an understaffed housing facility for disoriented seniors. "Hey Kip," a guard might yell out, "stop leaving your fucking pants in the pudding bin."
Per your presentation Kip, the horniest woman on the planet wouldn't approach that atrophied cock if it was made out of fucking cheesecake and shot an endless string of sparkling South African diamonds around her neck with the pinpoint accuracy of a decorated sniper. Tease them as you will with a pair of hastily dropped Hanes briefs binding your ankles like a 3 year-old preparing to pee in a plastic johnny toilet covered with dinosaur stickers, it nary makes up for the fact that I've had a dried moth carcass blowing lightly around my windowsill for six months that exhibits a more charismatic sexual exuberance than your quivering and bulbous birthing hips.
Guys like Kip post cock shots somehow believing the grainy cellphone visage of a penis ensconced with what appears to be an unkempt housecat miraculously ignites the libido of a woman with some type of primal sexual spark; yet Playgirl recently went bankrupt for a reason, and it wasn't because chicks were clamoring to catch a gander of Fabio's wilted Circus Circus bargain buffett breakfast sausage laying lifelessly across his leg like a shot squirrel. If you want your cock to spark something, go stand on a beach riddled with undernourished field wrens at 6 am and lay it on a beach log; you'll spark a flurry of violent beak strikes that will leave your manhood looking like a perforated bicycle tire.
Order that room service for one, Kip.
And order a fucking razor.
48 comments:
That one might possibly deserve a fuzzy duck picture, kind of a shock when you're eating breakfast...
Gotcha again Rebel.
always.
I should learn to read before breakfast. Then again, that would be the start to a new diet plan. There should be no appetite left after looking at the delightful cockshots
I aim to please.
I really hope room service includes a can of "dick-away".
Horrific!
There's only one teeny weeny phrase to describe that...."Button on a fur coat"
Whatever is surrounding his penis looks like a choking hazard. Or a fire hazard. I guess it all depends on what position you agree on.
Dear God, where's the brain bleach when you need it! Gaaahhhh!!!
Kip isn't just an enormous bush with a teensy cock, he's a gigantic asshole. The guy's married for cryin' out loud!
He ought to feel lucky that ANY woman found his disgusting package attractive enough to crawl into bed with, instead of trying to get strange.
I bet he's one of those guys who never dated in HS, and the first woman he went out with, he asked to marry him.
So he's alone in what looks like an Econo Lodge from the carpet, and wants some strange.
Sorry Kip, better take it home to the wife. At least SHE'LL give you some eventually, even if she's not crazy about the idea!
Sad part is, I know a guy named Kip. I've never seen his cock before though, so I can't exactly comment on the size and etc. Though good GOD, what the hell is his schmeckel sprining from? Some kind of bird's nest? Maybe the wrens already had at, Weasel, and nested there?
Plus, you ladies know that enormous rat's nest has to REEK. Blech!!!
I keep my runway cleared of excess growth, and expect a man to do the same.
Nothing like getting close to someone and smelling crotch rot from their massive, disgusting bush.
*laughing hysterically* Excellent commentary, Weasel, will you marry me??????
(My husband won't mind, really - oh well, I guess he would, never mind...)
And the unkempt housecat phrase.. *nose enema with coffee*
Genius again, Weasel. ;)
There are many reasons why I love this blog...
Why can't guys understand that women aren't like them? THEY get off on the pictures of a chics hoo-ha, we on the other hand do NOT! Put the camera down and step AWAY from the mirror! Is there any way someone can ask Hugh Hefner to put something in Playboy to get men to understand that? Weas, any suggestions?
But why cover it, I wanna see it!!!
I should know better than to eat and read this by now....now I have to clean my breakfast off the monitor.
Weas, thanks for the laughs!!
Quick poll: who wants to see dude's tighty whities around his ankles, like he just took a leak? Wow, how sexy! Gah.
Like a mushroom cap poking through peat moss.
Which I'd sooner put in my mouth by the way.
The sickly yellow glow of whatever no-tell motel hallway he took this picture in is big turn on too. I can almost smell the urine soaked floor.
... at least you can't see the skid marks, 'cause you know they're there
... I think it's tighty whities around the ankles that did me in.
I've seen some gross stuff around horses (autopsies, anyone?) but for some reason THIS... *hurk*
>>the grainy cellphone visage of a penis ensconced with what appears to be an unkempt housecat <<
ROTFL! That was one of the best descriptions ever.
Seriously, you know, if he shaved that shit off, at least it might look a little bigger. But the only way some woman is going to be visiting him in his hotel room is if he calls an escort service.
\" bargain buffett breakfast sausage laying lifelessly across his leg like a shot squirrel."
yet another thinkg to not do while reading this blog. Drink and sit on a yoga ball.
Hilarious as usual. It's safe to say, men will never learn. WWHM will be here for an eternity.
The y-fronts on the floor? Everyone knows ankle straps make all but the tallest of the supermodel types look short.
I need a drink holder on my yoga ball.
What a photo. Why is it that the men who post these ads use such a pathetic photo? The undies around the ankles really did me in.
And did you see that octoplex mom's pregnant belly? My god that was repulsive. Damn.
I don't understand men. We women spend time shaving, waxing, trimming etc to keep the bush under control. (Well, I do anyway--I can't speak for all women!) How come men don't? Is it sheer laziness (which I am beginning to think is the main motivator behind most male behavior) or is it too metrosexual? Is there are real reason why men don't groom down there? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I would much prefer to go down on someone who is nicely groomed than on a guy who has a nasty unkempt cat-hairball-looking jungle around his dick.
I'm not impressed by Kip, but I don't get all the fuzz hating? Nothing wrong with what's natural, assuming good hygiene habits are followed. It's fuzz-hating that has women feeling so self conscious about daring to show the slightest bit of leg or public hair. Some women get so scared the endure constant razor rash rather than let a man see what a post-puberty woman looks like. Get over your fuzz-phobia. Besides, there's nothing worse than going down on a guy and getting my face prickled from his razor stubble.
I have just discovered this blog, and I have to say that I am so deeply, deeply thankful for the literary gift that is Weasel.
I have no problem with guys not doing landscaping down there, but Kip's looks like it would supply a enough rancid oil to deep-fry a turkey. Dude, it's called SOAP, use some for crying out loud! Maybe that's why he's posted an ad - his wife hates his manky, stanky groin and he hopes someone out there won't care.
"WWHM used to have a small audience of doe-eyed and dainty society ladies"...BHWAHAHAHA!
No you didn't, we just faked it for the first 30 seconds. ;)
"What are you, a bunch of fucking Vikings?"
errr...speaking for the FHOTD crowd, yup, pretty much. :D
"a dried moth carcass blowing lightly around my windowsill for six months that exhibits a more charismatic sexual exuberance "
Best burn EVER. Can I steal that one to throw in the face of the next loser that hits on me? Not that he'd understand it, I'm sure. :P
Is that a gym or something in the background? If it IS a gym, this guy needs to spend more time working off that spare tire and less time doing tiny dick shots in the mirror.
Feel sorry for his wife who ended up with this guy
Hey Tornado, as another unruly member of FHOTD, I couldn't agree more. I'd clean ten sheaths, wipe up after a mineral oil intubation and once again slip and fall while disposing of a twenty pound placenta before I'd look at that photo again.
I was just about to eat dinner, and EEEEEEEEWWWWWWW!
Reisa-
LOL! Glad to know I'm not the only one who had a similar train of thought.
Man w/ ankle undies VS stitching back up a donkey...
I'll take door number two, please.
What are you, a bunch of fucking Vikings?
Well actually, I am. Always in search of the elusive Viking Ninja Pirate. Lumberjack Viking would be acceptable.
Now, I'll admit this guy's fuzzy. It looks like a piece of chicken sticking out of a bowl of chow mein noodles. But it's not THAT bad; I mean, it's symmetrical, it doesn't extend into a black fur tail curling up from his navel to greet his chest hair. Then again, observe the abrupt "tree line", maybe this Kip guy DOES actually trim and THIS is the result! *blergh*
I've been looking up my genealogy, and yes, I AM a fucking Viking! So toss me a gobbet of flesh!
LOL "shot squirrel", OMG, that is the PERFECT description of Playgirl posed peenees!
I would sooooo laugh if his wife was one of two responses to this ad. The other being from her divorce attorney!
And Octo-mom hasn't had a penis in her that anyone knows of, ALL of her kids were in vitro, with sperm donated from one "friend" who later BEGGED her to not have any more of HIS kids! (How weird to be 7 years older than your siblings, but have the same conception date...)
OMG, those ARE childbearing hips! Or a cold winter in Siberia, which also explains his pelt! (Most people grow LESS hair as they age, so imagine THAT! *shudder*)
Hubby and I had an interesting convo about the differences between HIS online ad, and these. His first point is that he was looking for something specific and quite a bit more specialized than just the ol' stick-in-hole. Which is why he got me! MY point was that his ad didn't have any picture of any naked bits, and was WAY more interesting a read than ol' Kip's (but not quite as excellent as your responses!)
LOL, to all you ad-for-sex only posting prick-picture takers, remember the early birds!
Man w/ ankle undies VS necropsy on a Rottie that died of parvo....
Hmmm.... Nice doggie.... only a little dead...
Dear Brandy,
I was the one who mopped up after the poor Rottie. Absolutely preferable.
Dear Weasel,
"...bunch of Vikings?" I'm Ukrainian. That makes me a direct descendant of both the people who domesticated horses, and the Scythian tribe. We were the women who rode into battle with our men. We had to kill three enemies before we were allowed to marry.
"Kip" would've been the practice dummy.
You can see how neither weepy boys nor wackos fit into the life plan.
Spiritually, I think all the FHOTD gals are Scythians. My true sisters.
I am speechless.
Violent beak strikes?!!! I'm only sorry that I'm sitting in a public waiting room with young children nearby, otherwise I'd be laughing so hard the neighbors would wonder who was being murdered.
This jerk must be the guy who calls in to Dr. Laura complaining that his wife doesn't turn him on any more. So, how old are you? About 50, right? Skinny legs, bulging belly, and balding. Look in the mirror. And those hips? They look like they belong to some African aborigine lady who pops out a kid or two every year.
So his wife doesn't like him anymore, and rightly so. And he expects some pretty young thing to be desperate enough to fall for him? God, he should AT LEAST shed the tighty whities around the ankles. As if the rest weren't scary enough.
Weas, you already have it from Walk On, Tribblehappy, and Brandy. We ARE a bunch of fucking Vikings. And? Welcome to the real world of women. You ain't seen nothin' yet.
So, having said that, why the white-out? We can have so much more fun mocking Cat Crotch's piddly poker if we can actually see it. We're not squeamish, are we, girls?
Certainly not squeamish. However, if I laugh any harder, I'll definitely pee...But being caught with your pants around your ankles is a BAD THING. Ask any Congressman. He should pull his BVDs up over that pear-shaped torso. As a bonus, the hair forest definitely gives the impression he's packing more, sort of like a teen girl in a Kleenex-stuffed prom dress. Still, I vote for getting a look at Kip without the post-it--call it truth in advertising.
Weasel, your commentary was absolutely brilliant! I'm still weeping with glee over unkempt housecat and Fabio's bargain buffet breakfast sausage/shot squirrel comments. Keep it up and coming. I'm no Viking, but I can go all Nordic on your ass if I have to.
Weasel,
I am a long time reader of your blog, and just had to comment on this one.
Where is Tims hairy snack shack when you need it?
Gotta give Kip this—at least the way his tighty whities are cleverly bunched around his ankles, we can't see the inevitable skid marks he's no doubt left in his undies.
I'm a viking too. The vikings invaded Northern Scotland, raped, pillaged and then settled in to create my Father's bloodline.
We'll run the FHOTD sea serpent up on the beach for ya Weas...(goes off to get my tin bra and horny hat)
I don't mind the hair, except when the equipment's so tiny it's hidden in it. But the tighty-whities around the ankles--nice that we're spared the skidmarks, but the tag in plain view that says size 40 is more than pukeworthy.
Oh man it almost looks like the bird strike that took out flight 1549.
Found your blog yesterday. I know I'm late to the game but I couldn't pass up complimenting you .... "quivering and bulbous birthing hips"? That was so funny.
Oh mercy.
Rippin' Kitten nailed it (no pun intended) re: skid marks.
Plenty of guys do groom down there, and I'm not overly fussy about that, given basic hygiene - I'm w/LoveItNatural on that. Bristly stubble versus unintentional flossing on my part? Well, it's a tradeoff.
But...his hips are easily twice the size of mine, and I'm nearly twice the legal drinking age (U.S.). Should we hook him up with the guy with the "bitch booty?" I guess at least he doesn't have piano legs, but eurghh.
And the tighty-whities. I don't know what's worse, those or European men's underwear, and I like European guys (not all of them, I'm just saying I can forgive some of them for the heinous snug undies).
"Disturbed WWHM female readers scream relentlessly for disgusting cock pics on WWHM, banging their machine-dulled utensils upon the stainless steel surfaces of bolted down prison tables, oblivious to the trembling guards in lab coats at their sides wielding high voltage cattle prods and cannisters of tear gas."
Attica! Attica! Attica!
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