10 Reasons Why I would Not F*ck Patti Stanger

Patti Stanger in 10 Years

#10 – Legs – I know cottage cheese can be a healthy snack but not in the bedroom

#9 – Style – She’s Blossom meets Ugly Betty with a Splash of Mrs. Garrett

#8 – Hair – If her top looks that ratty, I can only imagine how gross the downstairs is

#7 – Bossy – This is one of those works/not works things and her type of bossy makes me feel dead below the waist.

#6 – Psycho – I would bet a large pot of money that we could find an ex of hers who would say she is a stage 5 clinger

#5 – Voice – can you say nails on the chalkboard

#4 – Eyes – I piss my pants whenever there is a talking head shot as this dumb bitch has some blew eyes, one blew east, one blew west.

#3 – Smile – has there ever been a smile that screams Phony as loud

#2 – Stomach – I’ll be nice as we all know what this looks like

#1 – Have you seen her

10 Helpful Sayings To Survive Chat Roulette

Chat Roulette is billed as a brand new service for one-on-one text-, webcam- and microphone -based chat with people around the world.

Translation: Dudes showing their saggy balls and little pricks to anyone they can.

Here are 10 Helpful Sayings To Survive Chat Roulette:

#10 – Nice boner sir

#9 – You realize I can see your boner

#8 – Sorry I was looking for Chat Roulette not Boner Roulette

#7 – Sweet Boner ma’am

#6 No, you can’t see my boner

#5 – No, I’m not laughing at your boner

#4 – Nice to meet you – can you please cover up your boner

#3 – What The Fuck are you doing?

#2 – Are you serious?

#1 – How about now? Can you see my boner?

Dear Douches Who Don’t Grasp The Concept of BCC

Dear Douche Bag(s),

I hate you. Blind Carbon Copy (BCC) sound pretty self-explanatory doesn’t it? It’s that sneaky 3rd option down on every email that is sent. The purpose can be a variety of things from an “FYI” to secret FYI to a “FU FYI”. Not sure if its the use of the BCC acronym or its secretly done on purpose as some form of instant karma but some of you douche bags consistantly show how computer savvy you truly are and it drives me fucking nuts. Here are a few of my favorite offendors:

Your Buddy The Douche - I have one friend who should be on his own reality show called the Deadliest Catch 2 as he loves to fuck (and brag) dirty sluts and share emails/texts/pics from them. While I always appreciate them, he has a bad habit of mixing up CC & BCC. It always adds a layer of funny when the girl immediately responds with “You Asshole – don’t ever call me again”. Just did a quick count in my head and he’s done this 13 times (so far). Dude, please give up BCC and stick to forwarding emails you douche.

The Work Douche – There is one guy in every office I have ever worked on who loved, loved loved the BCC – thought it made him cool, in control and some sort of information power broker. His downfall is that there has also been one “I Don’t Grasp Concept of BCC” douche receiving that email and responding for all to see that Douche A sent a BCC to Douche B. Just CC someone you work douche.

The Sorority Douche – This is the slut who BCC’s other sluts with the intent being a bitch. You’ve heard the expression, talk behind someone’s back” – this is the electronic idiot’s version on that expression because these skanks known for fickle relationships and pull up old emails like they were trial lawyers in an eDiscovery case. Just stop being stupid you douche

What can be done about this? I’d like to ask some nerd coder out there to figure out a way to lock up the Reply All option on any email where you have been BCC’ed. There – problem solved.

Best,
The DBJ

If Naked Pictures of Snooki Existed…

One guess what she is spitting

Sexting Part 1: A Personal Adventure

As part of an ongoing series, @richardwildwood (the Chris Hansen of Sexting) will be chronicling the new American phenomenon known as Sexting.

Sexting and Greg’s Emasculating Black Pole

I’m sure it’s merely a coincidence that on the same day that I decided to document a personal sexting adventure, NBA star, Greg Oden filled the world wide web with more black pole than a South LA Ed Hardy outlet. Regardless, it happened and beyond the flaccid confirmation that Greg and I have absolutely nothing in common, I knew the unveiling of his black-snake-soft was just the nudge I needed to personally manhandle the issue of sexting.

First thing first. Who to sext and what to send? Answering the first question is easy. The recipient of my digital junk show will be my ever loving and ever judging girlfriend. Since she’s been sleeping with me for over three years she’s become accustomed to letdowns and disappointments and seeing my beanbag on her BlackBerry will do little to change the course of our relationship. The risk for me surrounds the issue of who she’ll decide to forward it on to – her friends, my friends, her sisters – the list goes on and on but it’s that level of vulnerability that will undoubtedly garner me respect. Tackling the issue of what exactly to shoot and send quickly became a far more difficult task.

At first, I figured why not go the route of my man, Greg? What I soon realized is that the full torso mirror shot is far more flattering if, like Greg, you have Denzel’s forearm draped over your balls. From that distance, my pic was far more reminiscent of Buffalo Bill’s “I’d fuck me” moment from “Silence of the Lambs.” Yeah, the one where he tucks it back to look like a mangina. Aside from my soldier’s stage fright, there’s the issue of body hair that also seems to be drowning out my physical beauty. Plan B – tame the untamable fug that I’ve worked so hard to hide for the better part of 20 years.

For me, removing body hair is like drinking wine coolers. If no one’s watching, there’s a good chance I’ll just keep going until it’s all gone. Armed with clippers and my girl’s make-up scissors it was time to trim, but not after coming to the realization that every bit of my body hair was connected. My leg, bag, chest, ass, arm and back hair were all conspiring to ensure that unless fully clothed I would never get laid, and in some beach/pool situations, asked to leave. After briefly retreating to my wine coolers and Camel Crushs for moral support, it was time to mow.

One hour later and I feel like velcro. Hairless, yes, but with jagged stubble capable of adhering to any form of fabric within range. Making matters worse, the removal of my dark pelt has exposed a pastiness eerily familiar to spoiled skim milk. Manscaping is one thing, but applying self-tanner is an entirely different ball game. This would require a whole new strategy considering there’s only a small amount of Hawaiian Tropic and I’m not about to put clothes on over the stubble to get a fresh batch of self-tanner at Rite-Aid. That’s when brilliance struck. Self-tan my midsection and frame the shot to capture only the beige flesh tones.

A few minutes later and I was poised for the money shot. One slight benefit to the application was that self-tanning my man area queued some arousal, creating the illusion of maybe an inch or two extra. Okay, time to shoot. First shot – way too close and stubble visible. Second shot – too far away making it look like I had a reverse tan line. Third shot – nailed it. Using my iPhone, I was able to color correct and hide some of the blemishes, leaving me with a solid finished product.

Okay, moment of truth. Here comes my first ever sext, hun. All for you and with a note reading, “your love package awaits.” 3-2-1…send. Now the waiting begins. How long would it take for her to digest and respond? As it turns out, only a few minutes. Her response is as follows”

“If you’re trying to make yourself feel better by proving that some black men have small dicks, then well done retard. But please, for the love of God, don’t send me pictures of other men’s cocks.”

Wow, she really didn’t recognize the member she’s been sleeping next to for years. Yes, for obvious reasons I prefer sex in the dark, but that’s still no excuse for not being able to identify my Labowski.

Then, moments later, she responded again:

“Oh my, you’re an idiot. You just sexted me you sick fuck! That better be shoe polish and not the last of my self-tanner. Either way, little drummer boy here is hitting the airwaves. Thanks for making my day, hun. XOXO!”

Like a prairie fire, my sext spread widely out of control. Before long the nickname Gary Coleman – code for short, dark and nasty – become my new title. Other names like “Benjamin’s Button” and “Only the Tip” began to sprout up as well. At first, my collision course with personal insecurity left me gagging at random moments during the day. Then, ever so slowly, I began to feel empowered by my sext. Sexually charged whispers of “what’s Gary Coleman doing tonight,” from my girlfriend only further validated my decision. It wasn’t until a forwarded sext of my buddy’s modest junk appeared in my inbox that I realized my actions had triggered a movement. A movement with the power to set all the non Greg Odens free.

TFLN Book Review: Funny Ha Ha Not Funny Queer

In the film Slingblade, a retarded Billy Bob Thorton uttered the phrase “Funny Ha Ha Not Funny Queer” to note his appreciation of humor. After reading the recently released book Texts From Last Night, consider me retarded. I first heard about the TFLN site after texting a picture of my left nut to a friend with the subject “McDonald’s New Chicken McNuggets”. He threatened to send it into the TFLN site but thankfully for them he did not.

While the TFLN franchise has a website, iphone app & twitter account (@tfln) , it was good to see a book released as it should help encourage another segment of society to engage in the sport of drunk texting. I also really enjoyed the book’s length (I know I just sound just like your mother talking about length). Too often, books in this genre try to stretch the material and only end up watering it down.

The book is essentially a “best of the best” (which is saying a lot) and features texts about everything from great sex to poor judgment

Here are a few favorites:

“Dude, I just spun my iPhone on my boner without it falling off. I belong in cirque du soleil.”

“Your sister got a Brazilian yesterday. It looks great”

“You think if I promise to behave for the rest of my life, God will let me fuck her on the regular?”

Excerpted from Texts from Last Night by Lauren Leto and Ben Bator.Copyright © 2010 by Ben Bator and Lauren Leto. Published by GothamBooks, a member of Penguin Group (USA), Inc.

5 Douche Bags In My Dream Fight Club

As part of my 2010 resolution to start exercising more, I am starting a Fight Club and wanted to invite the 5 following Douche Bags to join:

#1. Spencer Pratt – Talk about the best #1 pick for any club. He’s the type of douche you can build your franchise around. I’m not sure which Spencer I hate more, the Hills douche or the new spiritually reborn douche. Either way, I would love to punch his stupid face in.

2. Jay Leno – I can’t stand Jay Leno and it has nothing to do with Conan. This is an old grudge as he is simply an annoying douche. I hate his face, his fake cackle, annoying interviewing style and the way he shakes people’s hands at the beginning of the show. I would love to box his ears shut and attempt to break his chin with a MMA kick.

3. Perez Hilton – I can’t belive this fat piece of shit is still floating around in 2010. I thought he’d be done 3 years ago – fingers crossed that this is minute 15. I would punch him in his fat stomach and take his luch money (which is probably a healthy sum).

4. John Mayer – Who the fuck is this guy? He went from the “body is a wonderland” teen jerk-off to burying his boner his some of the hottest arse out there. Truth be told, I’m inviting him to the group to smell his fingers and try to catch sloppy seconds.

5. Screech – I don’t think you can legally have a Fight Club without him

Nude Photos of Greg Oden

Why JWOWW Is Shorely A Jersey Whore

Each day for the last month, we’ve noticed the DBag Journal being visited by people who’ve been searching the following 3 terms:

“JWOWW’s tits”

“JWOWW naked”

“JWOWW fake boobs”

While we realize this is all clearly some form of educational research that is being conducted, we’ve been unable to find any real pics to satisfy this search. We’re pleased to report that while we failed to find the pics, we did learn a lot about JWOWW and am sorry to break the news that she is a whore. We know, you are shocked as she seems so sweet but here’s some evidence that Jenni may be for sale:

FAKE TITS – Whores thankfully have huge boobs and JWOWW loves to show them off. While I appreciate her generosity with them, I think these giants funbags are more of a cry for help than a cry for dick.

NUTRITIONIST – While I was unable to find the formal education, it seems she is now giving tips on how HCG drops changed her life. Sounds like exhibit A in a nice lawsuit.

FASHIONISTA - She thinks that other women would want to dress like her and thus has launched a fashion line selling her low-cut shirts. I’ve watched the show each week with at least 2 women in the room and would hear more “what a slut” than “ooh, where can I get a hooker top like that?”

BIKER MODEL - No clue where this came from but am guessing this part of her “I’m so white trash” thing that she has going on –

JWOWW PROMOTIONS – That’s right – from her website “WOWW Promotions caters to the hottest clubs in Long Island and NYC. This is where Jenni hosts the hottest venues and makes her sexy appearances happen.” How does one make a sexy appearance happen anyway.

IGNITION NATION- from her website “a car and motorcycle enthusiast website. JWOWW is the VP of Marketing and spokes model for this ever-growing social networking site.”

To summarize, JWOW is a VP of Social Networking, Graphic Designer, Motorcycle Bikini Model, Nutritionist, Fashion Designer and all-around whore as she is clearly for sale. I’d like to offer her some free career advice and do something that she is good at – being a dumb whore with tits that guys seems to like.

PRIVATE NOTE TO JWOWW - Can you please hurry up and pose for Hustler as if there was ever a skank who screams Hustler material it was you.

5 Things I Hate About The Jets

The Fact That These Shoes Exist .......

5 – Rex Ryan is slowly becoming the biggest douche in the history of the NFL – please get him some meds, a gag and some diet pills.

#4 – Mark Sanchez is not Tom Brady – not on the field, not in the club, not even close – please stop saying he is. Anyone who says “what is Brady doing this weekend?” He’s banging Gisele which is better than anything Sanchez will ever do in his entire life.

#3 – They don’t know how to win. It’s been 10 years since they made it this far and based on what I witnessed from these douche bag fans this past weekend, you would’ve thought they won the fucken Super Bowl.

#2 – The true Jets fans are considered by other New Yorkers to be the scum of state. They most likely root for the Mets, are unemployed & most read at a 2nd-grade level.

#1 – I HATE the Jets chant and anyone who says it can suck my D-I-C-K Dick Dick Dick.