Skinny Jeans?

wtf? no good

OK, so its been awhile. In fact, that’s an understatement. It’s been far too long since my last post. Due to procrastination, employment, and just not giving a loose deuce, I haven’t posted.

With that said it has afforded me more time to observe the day to day trends and activities that can and do severely piss me right- off. Today’s topic of discussion: Skinny Jeans.

First off, this is a tightly slacked community but there is a distinct difference between tight-fitting slacks and skinny jeans. Chuck Norris wears tight slacks, but the key is they fit. Skinny jeans are worn by those anorexic, skater-type teens that only listen to “EMO” and  hate life. Breeches hanging half-way off their asses (half of them have no ass at all). If you still don’t know the genre I speak of, it’s the one where the girls look like  boys and the boys look like girls. It is both confusing and disgusting.

Bottom line: Skinny jeans suck, and from a hockey player’s standpoint they blow. In fact, I wouldn’t be able to get them over my ass and legs even if I made a deal with the devil on hell street (???). Bottom line…Shit ain’t happening. They gotta be super uncomfortable too. How can one even walk in these pieces of shit? Normal fitting pants shouldn’t make you feel like you’ve entered a potato sack race. A race in which all who enter, lose.

If you can’t wear them to church or run the risk of indecent exposure, retire the shitty attire. Please. For everyone’s sake.

Take A Load Off…

Life can be hectic and quite stressful at times.  As an adult male, you have to deal with such things and just roll with the punches.  For me, as a way to deal with the stresses of life, sometimes I like to just sit down and—take a pee…

Apparently, I’m not alone in the world with this destressing endeavor.  According to this article, a whole bunch of Japanese men prefer to do the same thing.  I take great comfort in knowing some of the people who designed the Mazda that I drive also sit down to pee—It’s a good way to bridge cultural gaps.

So to all of my fellow humans who bear the fleshy Florida-shaped appendage: When the going gets tough and the bladder is full—take a seat my brothers…let all of your cares disappear.

Published By: Dr. Max Yestronaut

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Planes, Dachshunds & Killer Whales…(I’m Alive)

The crack staff over at United Airlines...

The Flight To Florida…

I sat next to the Satan Family on the way down—a quietly loud-mouthed family of frackin’ four that featured a rubber-lipped Gummy-Bear junkie of a son and a ‘Tom Hanks with C-cups’ looking Mom who was more than willing to fill the little monster’s mouth with Gummy-Goods the entire flight (I bet you a buck his bowel movements bounce like a bastard)…

The father seemed like an OK guy—except his shorts were just about too short and his legs looked like dead Christmas trees…and if it weren’t for the fact the he appeared to be breast-feeding their other son for the entire flight, I probably wouldn’t have given him a second look, let alone thrown a glass of V-8 right in his face…

It’s OK, I had asked for the whole can of V-8—I had V-8 to spare

The Florida in Florida…

It was 31 years in the making—but I finally made it to Sea World :-)

While exploring Sea World’s aquatic chambers of sea-sex and salty sins—I turned around, only to find Shamu—dropping his cotton Dockers and flashing his Killer Whanker at me—One of several shocked witnesses snapped the following picture of my reaction to the ordeal…

Due to that Florida sun---I wasn't wearing anything from the waist down that day---This photo has been cropped for your safety...

Before long, I found myself 30-miles offshore on a deep-sea fishing expedition where I proceeded to hook and land the rare and majestic Sea Dachshund (Dachshund of the Sea)

Bonkers...

The Flight Home…

The best flight of my life, hands down.  I was the lone passenger on a flight being tended to by this stewardess (she completed a 3-year stint in a women’s prison just minutes before takeoff)…

Turbulence.

In closing, a confused gentleman from China took my bag right off the baggage claim’s carousel, thinking it was his—he apparently made it all the way to his hotel and was probably wearing my underwear (on his head) before realizing that he’d grabbed the wrong luggage…

I was home by then—in the bathtub, listening to Midnight Oil on vinyl and crying on a cheesecake when I got the call from an angel working for United-Air saying that my bag had been recovered…

According to her, the gentleman’s actual bag was a different color, material and style than mine :-)

-Ron-Yves Strouteau

PS – What did I miss?

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Our Doors Are Closing Tightly—For 7 Days…

Tomorrow morning I’m getting on a plane  and flying southward—taking direct aim on hurricane Earl’s weathery crotch…

Planes are always a fun time though—Just like anyone else, I enjoy being crammed next to a couple of sweaty donkeys on a winged metal capsule of stress, fear, tension, crying babies, claustrophobia and gay stewards on the brink of insanity—as we hurdle through the sky at about 500-mph.

The best way to cope with all of these variables?  Do what I do. What do I do?  This is what I do…

I'll be reading this book, aloud---for most of the flight...

Sick of obnoxious passengers?  Surpass them all instead…

First, I’ll wear something that’s not only frighteningly tight—but also velvet.  I’ll be donning bright white, hi-top sneakers and a fake gold chain that disappears into my exposed throw-rug of wavy breast hair.  My head hair?  It too will be perfect…

When the peanuts and pretzels are provided, I will proceed to eat them with my mouth open while talking loudly to my neighbors about highly uninteresting bull-shit.  If I see a man using one of those tiny pillows, I will promptly inform him that he’s officially gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

I will also drink V-8 with plenty of ice and those who cast dirty looks my way will find themselves blinded by all of those veggies and antioxidants.  Then I’ll wait for my neighbors to fall asleep, only to wake them because I need to get up and use the restroom—which especially ticks them off because I’ll have the aisle seat…

Much Thanks :-)

~Ron-Yves Strouteau

The following are some of our earlier posts—that nobody (except Bearman) read…Enjoy!

I Just Puked In My Mouth…(Quick snippet inspired by the Octomom)

Unaware Of Underwear Inflation…(Dr. Max Yestronaut’s frustrating account of an underwear-shopping endeavor)

He Came—He Danced—He Had Intercourse With The Hottest Girl In School…(Outdated film review of rug-cutting classic, Footloose)

Raq-Hell yeah I Would…(5 days from now, I’ll officially want to have sex with a 70 year-old woman)

A Terrible Tumble…(Dr. Max Yestronaut doing his part to make sure some mascot will never ‘live it down’)

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Your Tight Weather Fork-Ass—Thank Us After The Storm…

Dust off the leather umbrella and slap some Turtle-Wax on your shit-kickers—Monday awaits…

*Note: We neglected to include any information pertaining to the barometric pressure in your hometown because, let’s face it—nobody gives a shit about the barometric pressure in your hometown…

The ADHD Chuck Norris Radar Run-Down: As you can see, ADHD Chuck Norris is still distracted by the Great Lakes, therefore he has yet to relay us any real information which relates to the radar images…We apologize for the inconvenience…

*Note: The stress of being located directly under Chuck’s lethal & gargantuan genitals was simply too much for Texas to bear—the lonestar state broke off and sank to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexicoil early this morning…

Published by: Sampsonian & Ron-Yves

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WWW.Who’sYourDaddy.com/SpankMeHarder.Orgasm

Homeless, not humorless…

On a recent trip to Fenway Park in Boston, Assachussetts I came across one of the richest homeless people I’ve ever seen.  Thanks to his fantastic sign, this bastard probably pulled in about 2,ooo-bucks before the Red Sox game!

*I snapped this photo right before making my donation :-)

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A Sandy Lip-Tuck To Your Navel Academy…

I’m doing the unthinkable—I’m posting one of our blog’s pages right in your damn face…What can I say?—I’m in the mood to regurgitate stuff that you don’t enjoy…genius!

…but there’s more to it than just that.  Since this blog’s conception, the Spanky Trash section of STS.com has always been my favorite feature—and I’m proud to report that after 4 months, about 45 people have actually clicked on it —In other words, ‘the shit is fucking viral baby…’

In all honesty though—Last night I was reading over some of this material while eating a bowl of Cheerios and laughed hard enough to displace cereal into my nasal cavity, which I then inhaled and choked on—before tripping over a roller-skate and whacking my face off a hot iron that was being held by a horny wolverine named Chip…Things progressed further downhill from there….

What the hell is ‘Spanky Trash’?

‘Spanky Trash’ can easily be summed up—>>It’s a highly sophisticated form of rhetoric that has Dutch roots, however it’s more distinctive qualities were honed in Hudson, NH—not far from The Blue Moon—-These odd nuggets of literary discharge are to be utilized as quick verbal retorts targeted at misbehaving assholes.  Their intent is to confuse and bewilder your adversary, rendering them hesitant to respond in any manner…This will leave you the option to either walk away in peace—or walk away with his or her girlfriend…Regardless, here is a very small sample of what we’ve come to know as ”Spanky Trash’…’94

Here’s how it works:  Someone acts up in your presence and you could say something like, “ Hey buddy,  settle down or else I’ll give ya—>>

…the vintage heel-drop to your wife’s collard spleen

…a 3-fisted thrust lunge to your time sensitive material

…a fortified bag of elbow grease to the back of your ham-hocks

…Some Mandatory Mahogany to ya lemon coated lucy-lips

…A fresh five finger sailor salute to ya shiver me timbers

…a 6-pack of ‘shakedown’ to your withered gray tits

…a well placed jump-kick to your augmented breasts

…a galvanized thigh-shot that shakes loose a ball

…an unforeseen towel-snap to your taint’n tip

…some rock hard redemption to ya’ school of hard cocks

…a reversed bag-clutch to your sea-salted waistline

…some spicy 4-fisted trauma to your rubba’-lips

…I’ll corn-chip your buck-teeth & put ya’ on Frito Lay-away

…I’ll offer you the final endeavor while denying you reason

…a double-breasted squat-thrust tea-baggin’ your sinus infection

…the sirloin chop n’ shop to your varicose grape-nuts…

*List has been slightly condensed for tax purposes— click here fo’ mo’ :-) List can be updated at the request of you and your pimp…

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Hello to all.  The Dr. is back after a short but rectally invasive stay in a Red Chinese prison…So, shalom…

I’ve been reading a lot of articles here in the Northeastern U.S. about legalizing casino gambling.  State legislators are arguing back and forth about the pros and cons of allowing such activities to take place.  Whether you’re for casinos or against them, I believe that the following testimonial will prompt you to strongly support them…

Telly Savalas, he wipes his ass with your winning scratch tickets...

Have you ever been at a convenience store or gas station, probably in a rush to get to work or wherever, and you get stuck in line behind the degenerate lottery ass-hole?  You’ve seen him—He’s usually in his early sixties, slovenly dressed, and has a stack of lottery receipts and scratch tickets in his hands that’s about as thick as a real estate law-book.  Why in God’s name must this gentleman have to show up at the store when the rest of the functioning society has places to be?  All I’m trying to do is buy a Kit-Kat and a Yoo-Hoo!  and this douche holds up the line for a solid 8-10 minutes while the English challenged cashier from Pakistan is running all over the place.  As the line swells to a Department of Motor Vehicles-esque level, the town folk begin to get restless until our resident gambler has procures his new stack of lottery items.

So I say that it’s time to legalize casino gambling…Numbnuts is hedging all of his bets on the 5 dollar crossword puzzle scratch tickets when he should be at a casino playing craps like a fuckin’ man.  Risking 10 bucks on the Pick-3 just doesn’t have the same panache as losing double your net worth at the roulette table right before you get shanked by a hooker.

Build the casinos and let the games begin…

Published by Dr. Max Yestronaut

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A big heart and and a bigger purse. Seen here wearing a Coach kiddy-pool...

Well fuck a duck and pull my pig-tails—Snooki found a taker…

People continue to amaze the amazement right out of my blue-chipper glutes.  Let’s have a big round of applause for Jeff Miranda, the dumbass that’s about to embark on a relationshit voyage with one of the most despicable alcoholic Hobbits I’ve ever seen with a fake tan—Mr. Snooki…

“The way the show depicts her and makes her seem is totally not her,” Miranda insists. “She honestly has one of the biggest hearts…She is really not how everybody thinks she is.” (sorcery)

Good point Jeff.  All of that actual video footage of Snooki acting like an asshole is so very misleading—it’s not like that was her in those videos of her.  Our mistake…I guess the producers of The Jersey Shore decided to deep-six all that footage of her feeding homeless cats and doing charity work for the blind…

Dear Jeff Miranda,

It’s my understanding that you’re a 24 year-old veteran of the war in Iraq.  I’d like to take this opportunity to offer my sincere thanks to you and your service.  As someone who has never served, I want you to know that I appreciate the Hell out of what you do—regardless of what my opinion is on any given War that our military happens to be fighting, it’s folks like you that are there to cover our collective American ass either way.  Again, thanks Jeff.

With this being said—What are you thinking fool? I’ve got a bear-trap in my basement somewhere if you’d like to borrow it—throw your genitals right in there and save yourself some fargin’ time.

As someone who has faced chemical weapons, car-bombs, AK-47s and the Iraqi Insurgency—Why come all the way home to New Jersey only to stick your cock in a bronze land-mine?

You went all the way to Baghdad my friend—but you may have found the weapon of mass-destruction on the Jersey shore…

Regardless,

~Ron-Yves Strouteau (aka-The Litigation)

Limerick For Jeff (Good Luck Man)

There once was a man in a war

When he got home he wanted some more

So he went down on Snooki

Got bit by her Wookie

Who then spit out his junk on the shore

Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

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Denny Delvecchio.

Denny Delvecchio, the CEO and ‘employee of the month’ over at Your New Bad Habit, recently had one of his secretaries contact me with several propositions—But the thought of doing Denny’s yard-work or videotaping his ritualistic 3-way with a dehydrated set of Olsen twins didn’t exactly sound appealing to me.  So I declined.

Ultimately, a compromise was reached and I’m happy to report that our staff will be dropping off the occasional ‘guest-post’ over at Denny’s place.

Click or rub Denny’s mugshot to be whisked away to his neck of the woods—give that son of a bitch some unprotected love…

~Ron-Yves Strouteau

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