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Showing posts with label droupy jeans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label droupy jeans. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Plumbers Crack

I remember when I was a kid, a couple years ago, our parents always to pull up our pants. Nobody wants to smell your butt crack, wear a belt, need suspenders, and usually with me, it was mom telling me to zip up my zipper too. But, one thing has surely changed now a days.
We went from not being able to get our pants up far enough, to see who can have their pants on lowest. I sure don't a mind it at all, I mean, I get to excited about Victoria Secrets, little do I need see to get to that level. Man, I tell ya, I seen a crack with a tramp stamp on today bigger than Rosie O'Donnel back end with pillows on her sides. I was at complete slobberness, and just totally amazed at how smooth her butt looked, made me just wanna walk up there and pinch it like a little baby's cheeck. But, some how I managed to hold myself back, that was like holding a pitbull back when Michael Vick walks by. But some of them muffin tops, the ones that look like the bread has been on rise for 3 days, I can't imagine who the hell is telling them they look good in them low rise jeans, but I would love to find him. And when your looking for him, also find the dude that put the camera on one side of the phone and the screen on the other, and gave me skype app. That's a bunch of crap when you figure that out right out of the shower when talking to your brother. But, in the mean time, the nice butts keep on trucking them pants lower, I ain't a complaining, nothing beats a good clean crack. But the other ones who like to show butt hair and cling-ons when ya bend over, please check back into the 70's.
If you happen to find some nice buns in so low riders, shoot me a pic, heck it don't hurt to share them things anymore. But until later, don't be silly wrap ole willy.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Gangsta

Dude, if your mama drops you off and picks you up from school, you are not a gangster. I don't mean to rain on your parade, but never in my lifetime have my pockets extended past my butt.

And the only time you ever seen a guys boxers, was when the class bully pulled them up past the back of his head.

And mama and pops, your at fault for letting these kids dress with their pants down on the ground, and undies way up their backs. My kids don't do that. Shoe some class, not ass.

And the hot chicks like dudes in them tight butted jeans with the wrangler patch on em, last time I checked wrangler didn't make a patch that could be drug on the ground all day.

So step up, pull up, and spare us the laugh at your underoos. Its class buddy, order some!!!!


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