Saturday, October 30, 2010

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Take The Wheel, Douchebag

 
Eds. Note: This is the 12th installment of our ongoing series of guest appearances by cultural heavyweights. 

What the holy fuck did I do to make this world hate me so?

My sole purpose on this planet is to gently cleanse the tender vaginal canals of female human beings across the industrialized world and, if at all possible, fill said female with a heightened sense of confidence and self worth should another human happen upon said woman's vaginal canal.

I promise nothing more. I deliver nothing less.

Well, on second thought, I might even serve to occasionally foster a greater degree of communication between the various generations of human families, as a mother may see fit to regale her daughter or daughters with cheerful tales of yore, such as when her own douching helped her snare her future husband's eye the University of Dayton fall formal back in 1982.

I cleanse. I smile. I die.

Yes, that's right.  After I labor as a reservoir for an otherworldly combination of harsh chemicals, acids, bases and vinegar, I am hurriedly cast asunder much like my recreational cousin, the condom.

How do you think that makes me feel?

Empowered, that's how. Just like a latter-day Geisha at the $10 tug-stand or servile, doe eyed concubine.

But you know what does rile me up?  When humans take my name in vain by affixing the noble moniker to those deemed the most socially befuddled and monstrously undesirable amongst them.

Would you like it if I called you a Dane Cook?

Or a Stan Gable?

Or a The Situation?

Or even the a the late Johnny Olson?

Exactly, you stanky landlord of hell-quim.

Now open up those meaty gargoyles you call thighs and let me get about my business in peace.

-Eve Unit #231,712

Monday, October 25, 2010

From The Bag Of Tricks: Nick Lachey Will Heal Our Broken World (Advance #24)


The global economy is in virtual free fall, two apocalyptic environmental disasters are cravenly mocking us in unison, and mud-slinging and paranoia are sinking our political discourse to new, unmined depths.

And the cruel troika of poverty, war and disease are plowing forward with sinister new traction.

Some are whispering that there's no hope for our future.

Well I say there sure the fuck is as long as the the Alabaster Groinasaurus is still dropping his silky smooth jams.

That's right--we need you more than ever, Nicky Dreams.

Step up, suggestively grind your svelte, percussive hips and coolly transform this broken world into your own personal pleasuredome.

Then impregnate our souls with your Miles Davis-esque Southern Ohio funk.

A Believer,
Denny DelVecchio

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Advance #60: Introducing "DelVecchio, The Fragrance"


Coming Winter 2011 at all finer Costco Wholesale Clubs and Kaufhaus Des Westens across the United States and Bavaria.

You will have sexual intercourse, perhaps even with another, within 11 hours of drenching your doughy torso in this oily hump serum, or up to 50% of your purchase price will be cheerfully refunded.

The line forms to Denny's left.

Ballin',
Denny DelVecchio

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Regress #50: Mr. Cunningham Felled

Although I once shamelessly foisted a yeoman's bounty of carnal aspirations at your supple, copper-domed better half week after merciless week, I never actually wished that you were dead.

And now you are.

Yet, still, I'm not one iota closer to sexing the erstwhile Mrs. Cunningham now than I was as a musky, besotted rodeo clown of avarice back in 1983. And there's nothing that Spike Jonze can do about it now.

Is that what a loving God would allow?
 
Sad But Not Really Meaningfully Grieving,
Denny DelVecchio

Sunday, October 17, 2010

From The Bag Of Tricks: Our Generation's Cary Grant (Advance #17)

Cary Grant. Sir Laurence Olivier. Paul Newman. Gregory Peck. Clark Gable.

These Pharaohs of Old Hollywood all possessed unrivaled acting chops, sculpted jawlines and animal magnetism in spades. And we'll never forget them.

Whether a role required a slow burn or a bright conflagration of thespianic ardor, they stood at the ready to transform themselves. And, perhaps, us a little as well.

Many have debated what nuanced player of our generation will one day proudly stand arm and arm with these Titans of the Celluloid.

Will it be Clooney? Depp? Washington? Seymour Hoffman?

I say none of the above.

Let me be the first to lay my hard earned money down on a multi-faceted son of a Michigan auto mechanic, who worked his way through the acting ranks with razor-like aplomb, never losing sight of his dream to be the very best at his craft.

I'm talking about you, Dax Shepard.  Please get up and take a bow.

Cordially,
Denny DelVecchio

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Take The Wheel, Single Girlie


Eds. Note: This is the 11th installment of our ongoing series of guest appearances by cultural heavyweights. 

To say that Denny yearns to make sweaty blog-love to her is like saying that Johnny Depp is a hundredaire.  Check out her boner-inducing site right now. But she's mine, bitch.

Well, hi there! Cultural heavyweight singlegirlie inna house. Welcome to my boyfriend’s website.

Who is this brazen tart, you ask? I, my friends, am the girlfriend. The chosen one. In case you missed it, Denny made the official announcement a short time ago on the smash-hit sensation Love in the Dumps web forum. And of course, I declared my love for Den-Den some time ago.

While I’m not here to piss on my tree or threaten violence, it has come to my attention that certain individuals have been – how you say? – jockin’ my man.

This is hardly a surprise. It’s classic Hollywood, really. Boy gets gorgeous, smart, upscale, morally questionable girlfriend and suddenly every ‘gina in town is on his crotch. It’s just like Can’t Buy Me Love, except Denny’s way hotter than Dempsey, and he didn’t pay me. No, seriously.

Now, I am not so na├»ve to expect a man like Denny to settle on just one human. Nor am I so selfish to deny others of the good doctor’s many sexual gifts. In fact, I believe every man, woman and hermaphrodite alive should at least once experience the rapture that is Denny.

What can I say? I’m a humanitarian.

But as I learned from The Joy Luck Club, there can only be one Number One Wife, and that bitch is ME. The rest of you are the hoes and bros Denny may penetrate while I am menstruating.

Yes, I’m talking to you, Katy Perry. And you too, M.C. Bubbles. As for the remainder of you schmoes, well, you know who you are.

So have at it, y’all, just remember your place. You are all number two, and in more ways than one. Oh, and be sure to wear protection. I’ve been around.

xoxo Single Girlie xoxo

Monday, October 11, 2010

Advance #59: The Most Awesomest Thing You've Ever Seen Ever


Over the course of my carnally-fruitful decades on this beautiful, silky-hipped Latin He-Ball the Sun most definitely revolves around, I have gained a well-deserved reputation for being a quick-witted, easy on the eyes pleasure serpent.

So Denny Dance knows that his opinions on the ebbs and flows of our cultural bellwethers are almost always spot on.

This humble video masterpiece is living, breathing, shitting proof. Watching it made me emotionally turgid. Hopefully it will do the same for you.

If it doesn't, you're not reading this sentence right now, anyway.

Saddle Up,
Denny DelVecchio

Sunday, October 10, 2010

From The Bag Of Tricks: My Supple New Queen? (Advance #19)



If any loyal DelVecchians out there know this statuesque enchantress' digits, please quickly (but discreetly) fire them my way via our pre-arranged method.

I'll make it worth your while like only Denny can.

With Some Urgency,
Denny DelVecchio

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Advance #58: Denny's First Term Paper


It was in a tender, breezy Fall in a better time and place when a scholarly young lad turned his eyes skyward in askance, wondering aloud who he should select as the subject of his very first term paper. 

Would it be Ghandi? JFK? Joe Montana? Conrad Bain?

As Denny spun the names over in his head like so many fateful lottery balls, one number kept getting sucked through the pneumatic of my mind, revealed by a perky, eager to please young spokesmodel with a hooker's morals but a concubine's heart.

And what did that beautiful white ball reveal?

Read on . . .

October 7, 1986



Hello. My name is Denny DelVeciho which meaens Denny of the Vecchio in Italan (do I get extra credit for that Miss DiLazio?)and I picked out a super awsome guy for the person on Earth that I most admire the most of any person on Earth.

My father.

Just kidding. I haven't seen my dad in six years. The last I hurd he was selling his penis down by the warehouse dictrict for $10 and a menthol cigarette.

But anyway the person I most admire in the universe is Johnny Lawrence from the Karatie Kid. He's handsome and can kick ass so bad and he should have swept the leg and also kicked that little chinees dudes face in and then totally had sex with the blond girl, maybe in the locker room or could be in his car. And maybe they could have done it twice or even three times. He probably drived a kick butt car like an ElCamino that Denny is saving up his money for now. I have $17.80.

Any way those are the resons I really like Johnny Lawrence. I want to meet him someday and then when I do meet him Ill tell him that hes my hero and that we should go have a lot of sex together. Like with hot chicks. Maybe ones in Philly. That's a big city near Camden.

I saw a real boob last week by the way it was my counsin Dahlia's and I went into the bathroom to bust a grumpy and i saw her get out of the shower and their were boobs. She's 19 so they were xtra big. 

I also think Jesus Christ is cool (Tony G. told me to say that just in case Jesus reads my paper or some shit).

Anyway to sum up my term paper, my favorite person in the world is the blone guy from Karate kid, I saw my counsints boobs and if Jesus is reading this what I was doing last week in the closet was a science experment.

Sincerly,
Denny DelVeciho

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Upcoming Your New Bad Habit Headlines



Denny has been called a cocktease, and he's earning the sweet moniker now by giving what some have referred to as a "sneak preview" of upcoming Your New Bad Habit stories.

Let the hype begin, DelVecchians.

Chimpanzees: Amoral, lice-ridden psychopaths aren't really so much like us after all

Otherwise average Boise man has freakish 7 inch clitoris

Mick Jagger: "I'd still fuck Mick Jagger"

Man of Asian descent ascends

Impoverished rapper reconsiders "wrecking the mic."

Des Moines couple agrees auto-erotic asphyxiation looked hotter on CSI: Miami

100% pure cane sugar still 100% rots the shit out of your kids' teeth

Building The Drama,
Denny DelVecchio

Sunday, October 3, 2010

From The Bag Of Tricks: 8:45 AM on Interstate 17

I was awakened this morning by the thunderous hum of a passing 18-wheeler. As my eyes opened from their shallow, troubled rest, I slowly took an inventory of my curious state.

I was shirtless and sporting a handsome satin Kimono. I had a fresh Team Jacob tattoo on my right upper thigh, and some Team Edward ink on my left. On my abdomen was thematically-unifying third leg to the triad.

I reeked of a several hours old Sambuca shot. No, make that two. I had been relieved of my eyebrow, and (as I later learned) painted in its place were thick, arched, Brooke Shieldsian facsimiles. A handsome pair of what looked to be hand-cut Dutch clogs adorned my feet. My socks were apparently long gone, as were any traces of my undergarments.

On the ground next to me was a small JanSport fanny pack. In it, on a ripped off portion of a carton of Pall Mall cigarettes, was this cryptic message. Also inside was a $25.00 check to me from someone named Miles Odenkirk with Shit Yeah, Bro written in the memo line, a Cantonese (?) dental dam, a half-eaten Nutter Butter, a classic Hardcore Rap CD and the phone number to a prominent Phoenix-area urologist.  And, perhaps most importantly, a disposable camera that included the photo to the upper left. I don't recall ever having met any of those people, but I have a distinct feeling that I know them fairly well at this point.

I can't say for sure, but I'm 80-85% convinced that I just had the best night of my life.  And probably the best night of any of your lives as well.

Glad tidings,
Denny DelVecchio