Archive for Cosmetics

Paw Paw Pocket Protection.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2008 by Buck Frain

 So Nick D’arcy has been banned from the Beijing  Olympic Games once again. Thank fuck for that! The little fucker’s lucky his dad’s a fucking plastic surgeon or he wouldn’t be able to afford all the lawyers, and he’s appealing again. What do the poor violent athletes do? How do they cope? 

My joy at justice actually working was short-lived, however. I had a $2 bet with a co-worker that D’Arcy would be allowed to go. I was glad to lose the bet but I reached into my left trouser pocket where I keep my keys and coins and pulled out a handful of Oh fucking hell! Horror. Both mine and hers as I proffered a fist full of keys and coins clumped together thick with the lip-balm that had evidently suffered a packaging failure in the same pocket. Our eyes met and for a fraction of a second I think she actually believed I was being premeditatedly weird. I exited stage left to the bathroom with all appropriate haste and stealth. Please, don’t let The Wobblers see me with a fist full of lubricated keys!

 

In the bathroom I started using paper towel to soak up, wipe away the lip balm. Fuck! There was so much of it. One little tube of Lucas’ Paw Paw goes a fuck of a long way. After scraping all the excess grease of my hands, keys and change I had to wash them with soap to remove the rest of it. I recommend Lucas’ Paw Paw Ointment for its staying power. Three or four washes got them more or less clean, the keys still feel a little more moisturised than keys should. I looked in the mirror. Cunt, bollocks and shit! The pocket! I remembered I still had a pocket full of warm grease. I remembered it because I saw that it had fucking soaked through to make a vaguely cummy-looking grease stain on the front of my pants. I turned the pocket inside out and scraped as much lip balm as I could out of the fabric. The greasy stain I was stuck with. I couldn’t risk getting busted washing and drying my pants in the bathroom, not at work.

 

I returned to the phone room. I paid my debt with the cleanest coins seen outside the mint and went back to work. I’ve spent the rest of the day trying not to notice the faces of people as they notice my stain. Fuckin’ dirty pants-starers! Looks of disdain and disgust, I’m sure tales of my depravity and perversion will fill my foul workplace for months to come. IT’S NOT CUM, YOU FILTHY-MINDED BASTARDS!!! IT’S ON THE LEFT, HOW WOULD I CUM IN MY OWN POCKET??? IT’S LIP-BALM!!! IT FUCKIN’ BROKE OPEN IN MY CUNTING POCKET! YES, IT’S GROSS! I SHITTING WELL HATE IT TOO!!!

 

I should make clear this is not a sledge on a product and that I will continue to use the same lip-balm, it’s good. The truly fucking horrible  thought is that I might have to invest in a man bag to avert future such misadventures. A cunting man bag – ah, I might as well just cut off my own balls! It’s all cunts! I think I’m getting sick. I hate my life.

You’re fuckin’ ORANGE, cockface!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2008 by Buck Frain

I’ve been seeing them everywhere today. I don’t know whether it’s the sudden cooler weather that makes them yearn for the illusion of summer, or whether I’ve just been oblivious of late, but they’re back – the orange people. Not the cult, I mean the fake tan fuck-wits.

 

They’re easier to spot than toupees, for fuck’s sake. It’s mostly women but occasionally you see an orange man, usually a metro-gym-junkie. Fake tan! What the dick-cheese-sandwich are you thinking? Are you colour blind? You are bright orange. Your fucking skin is orange. People aren’t naturally orange, of all the many beautiful colours people come in orange is not one. Orange screams fake. It howls at the top of its lungs to everyone with sight: Look at me, I’m a pasty white fuck-waste who’s ridiculously self-conscious about my skin colour and has absolutely no self-awareness whatsoever. I’m shit! Throw rocks at me! STAB ME!! I’M FUCKED!!!

 

I fucking hate it. It’s absurd, and they just act like they just got back from Bali and no-one realises that it’s not real, even when they’re wearing a sleeveless top and the orange has sweated off to reveal white armpits. Orange is a fruit. FUCKING HAVE A LOOK AT YOURSELF!!! It’s just fuckin’ stupid, it looks like orange dirt. Go home, scrub yourself clean, put on some decent boots, kick the living shit out of yourself and repeat 100 times Everyone knows I’m not really orange.