Canadian Bacon on Leatherface.

Her name is Leatherface because she smokes like a chimney, lays on a tanning bed, drinks like a fifty year old alcoholic, and fucks like a cheap prostitute. All that smoke, booze, and cum sits on her face making it hard and wrinkly like my awesome leather jacket.
On Thursday we all came across Leatherface. The girl who made the line "so I'm dicking this girl" famous. Last year a bunch of us saw our friend "Gets a lot of ass" and he told us this story that went like this..."So I'm dickin' this girl right and miracle number 1 is that I am able to "roll on." Then she gets this phone call from an ex-boyfriend and they start fighting on the phone. Then I start to think about if I was that guy how I wouldn't want to have some guy fucking her..." And so it continued on about how he couldn't have sex with this girl any more.
So, Thursday night we ran into Leatherface... She told us that she was giving up dick and Jameson for lent because in her words... "one leads to the other." Although she isn't really giving up dick. She is giving up stranger dick, which is funny because if you knew the kind of guys she likes to fuck you would no that there is nothing stranger then a guy wanting to fuck her. I think most guys want to feed her a carrot, slap a saddle on her and ride her into the sunset.

Oobs on Purse being a DUMBASS

So Purse is in Las Vegas and I hope she loses lots of money because I just found out this bitch has a side blog that she is writing on instead of writing on this one. You're in trouble Purse. Big trouble.

Oobs throwing shit at Purse

Oobs, Purse, and Drunkmeier on You’s the Faux.

The real this week's roast:

8 Mile without the class or the Talent. That’s right! We said it. You’s the Faux is on our radar this week because she has consistently failed to subscribe to this blog. So she is going to be fully roasted right now more than Canadian Bacon at a down syndrome convention. (Canadian Bacon will be roasted at a later time.)
Technically You’s the Faux is rumored to have a vagina and she may have tits (albeit it be bitch tits) but for the first two years of law school she partook in a circle jerk of narcissism. You’s the Faux may not be a real dude but she is tough. One night Drunkmeier begged her to punch him in the face. Why? Because it was Drunkmeier. Why did she actually do it? According to Drunkmeier it is because he fucking told her to. And yes she did. She knocked him a good one in the face and his shit was sore for two weeks. It was memoralized on Ol’ Yellers cell phone.
The bitch is built like a linebacker. She tackled Biff onto the bed like Jerome Bettis tackled Carson Palmer in the 2004 AFC north playoffs. And boom goes the dynamite.
Years from now You’s the Faux and her future husband are going to get that age old question… So where did you meet dad? And she’s going to have to admit that she was drunk, and bored at Finn McCools. Zing. And boom roast the dynamite.
But baby everybody loves you.
(P.S. this blog may leave something to be desired since Drunkmeier is fueled by his beer bought breast peep show tonight. He is thinking about four, perky boobs not the funky melons on You’s the Faux chest.)
(P.P.S. Drunkmeier called me “intellectually dishonest” for not showing him my boobs again.)

Purse on Oobs stealing my cell

God damned kleptomaniac. Here I was trying to be a good friend. I was really trying. I know that I usually suck at it, but you know, I was trying. So I agree to take care of Oobs pussy . Her pussy’s name is Hal. He was a great kid all week.

Then fucking Oobs comes back to pick Hal. While Oobs is at my place, she decides it’s a good idea to put MY phone in HER pocket, and leave.

Now, I know Oobs has some issues, so she gets away with a lot of sub-par behavior, but this is just ridiculous. She took my cell from my apartment, and took it home with her under the guise that “it looks like mine.” For the record, hers is twice as wide, twice as heavy, and silver, while mine is black.

I wish the story ended here. But it doesn’t. Twenty four hours later, I come to Oob’s place to pick up my phone. Not only did she admit to almost forgetting that I was coming to get my phone, leaving me without communication or mode of communicating to her that she forgot about me (bitch), but when she finally returns it, it’s battery COVER IS MISSING.

“Hey, Oobs…what in the hell happened to the back of my phone.”

“Oh!” she says innocently, bends over to the bottom of her shelf, revealing three inches of her no-thonged ass crack. “Here it is!”

WTF Oobs. You don’t take someone’s cell, break it and then hide the pieces in your apartment. What were you going to do with my batter cover Oobs? Why were you hiding it from me? I can only imagine…

Oobs on the Second Roast

And the second roast goes to..... Oobs and Purse.
What a bunch of lazy bitches! What has it been three weeks and they're already bored with this stupid thing. I was at a memorial service this week.... what was your excuse Purse? Busy perusing match.com for that future douchebag soulmate? Although to be fair.... no one reads this fucking thing anyways so I guess everyone gets the roast this week. Us for being lazy and you for not caring that we're lazy.