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Topless women in the Bahamas. Old women who don't wear bras. Bikini girls pick their wedgees. Hog gets an inverse erection when sees a fat chick. WWF t-shirts and hair braiding. Sex on the beach is only a drink for Hog. Read all the jokes and see all the pictures!


Hog's Trip to the Bahamas, Part 2: Topless women in the Bahamas

by  HogWild

My wonderful bim turns to me as we’re walking along the beach and says, “Look! A topless girl!” I’m like, “Where! Where!” Drool has already begun spilling from my open jaws. My brain has automatically shut down. It’s like, mentioning bare breasted hooters is equivalent to hitting ctrl-alt-delete on your PC and the screen says, “It is now safe to shut off your brain, you babbling idiot.”



Julia Roberts needs to flash some nip.So I’m looking around all frantic-like. And trust me, I don’t get frantic very often. Enthused possibly, but not frantic. I HAD to find those shiny naked boobies! Of course I should have known better. Please, whose wife is SO COOL that they’d actually point out a delicious pair of squeez’ums to their husband? The only time your bim does that is when she’s trying to get you to take her to some stupid Julia Roberts chick flick. “I hear she shows her tata’s in this one,” is the usual bait. Of course she doesn’t, and you wasted another $20 units on some movie that revolves around romance, sunsets and horses.


Let’s think about it in reverse though. Some muscle-head nub is walking down the beach. Looks like he’s packing a lightning rod in his swim shorts. Do YOU immediately notify your BIM of this? “Hey sweetie! Thought you might want to take a look at this hunk who just walked of the Cover of Men’s Health Magazine. Not only is he tan and buff, but I think his flavor injector is three times the size of mine!” No. This would never happen. So it was silly of me to think my woman would hook me up like that. But I’m telling you, my brain turns off. So I’m just scanning the beach for hooters. After 60 seconds I’m starting to doubt the veracity of my bim's vision of nude knockers. But I look methodically under every beach umbrella, at every bim in the ocean. But . . . AAAAAAAH!! I WISH she had been lying now! There certainly WAS a pair of protruding pom poms, but, EEEEW! They were flabby floppy hand bags of fat flesh! Oh God! It was horrible! I instantly got a INVERSE erection! I think I might have impregnated myself! Good God man! It was like 2 aging water balloons. Leaking and stretched to the max. Actually, they were more like those sand bags they have over the sides of hot air balloons. I think when she walked in the sand her footprints were erased by her trailing droop-monsters. It’s like, if someone was drowning out in the ocean, she could have thrown out one of her super long tube sock breasts to save the person. Or if she were swimming and was attacked by a shark, she could easily suffocate it by tying one elephant trunk hooter around it’s neck. Daaaaamn! I've been set up! 


If you're going to use the ocean as your bathroom, at least use a toilet seat!


Lizzy was looking for her bowling league partners.

Lizzy the Lesbian Lizard paid us a visit on our porch. You'd be surprised what they do with a discarded lollipop stick!


Hey, this ain't a sea shell! I wonder if it's a lobster . . .

Hog is so stupid he confuses rubbish with a sea shell. Then again, being from the Bronx, how the hell WOULD he know the difference. Have YOU ever been to Orchard Beach?



Expert Dating Advice Videos by me -- HogWild -- professional dating advice: helpful and hilarious.


I had to have my revenge. But how? I had to wait. I had to surprise her. Bait her with something irresistible. So as we walked towards the little shops in the resort I yelped, “Oh my Goodness? Is that right?! Women’s shoes are 50% off! No way!” She bought it all right. Except the joke was on me. Not only were shoes not 50% off, but she wasn’t fazed. She bought the shoes ANYWAY! AAAH! Foiled again!


But man, these BFN’s (Big Fat Nasties) have no shame. Rolls and rolls of no shame. It’s like when people go on vacation they forget physics. This old lady is strutting around in a t-shirt with no bra. So I did what any scientist should do, I tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, “Gravity.” Yes gravity. GRAVITY BITCH! Scoop your breasts off the ground and wear a bra!

And while I’m at it, parents, stop letting your babies sun bathe nude! I’m trying to relax and get a tan (which is hard to do when the sun has to penetrate 3 layers of dirt) and this little baby is smiling at me. A BIG smile. Yes, her little buttcrack is smiling at me. No! Ugh! That’s gross. Put a diaper on the poor kid before she gets butt cancer! Teach the baby some shame or one day she’ll be 103 walking around the pool with no teeth and no bra.


By now you must think the Bahamas is not all that. But contraire un frare in the soiled underwear. The Bahamas is heaven. Oh it was so nice. We got 58 channels of heaven! Full cable TV baby! And that’s not all! I couldn’t believe it. I have NEVER had this luxury in my life--- EVER—not EVER--- NEVER! The Mets game and the Yankees game were on at the same time on adjacent channels! Do you know just how HUGE that is? I could easily watch my two favorite teams with just one click of the remote. <CLICK!> Mets are batting. <CLICK!> Yanks are batting. Amazing. First off, in Ohio I don’t get to see them period. 2nd, third, and fourthly they're usually on stations like 11 and 52. So to have them on back to back stations is nothing short of a miracle. My bim showed her appreciation for this miracle by screaming, “Get your lazy ass out of bed! We didn’t come to the Bahamas so you could watch TV!” Yeah right. Oh how the tables turned when 7th Heaven came on. I was like, “We didn’t come to the Bahamas to watch the WB! The only WB I want to see are Wet Bikinis!” So she splashed a cup of water on me and said, “Bikinis are in the closet.”

The View from that Hog never saw. The only View HOG appreciated was the one on HBO, Showtime, Nickelodeon, ESPN . . .

 pick my wedgee, big boy!

Oh the bikinis! The bikini bims I saw. There was this one hot bikini bim. Blonde. Nice height. Boobs that could keep a small ship afloat. Long legs and—she had a wedgee! Awesome. Her tanned little buns were happy to see the world, “Hello world! Slap me. Slap me hard! We’ve been BAD little buns. So so bad!” But then, egads, she picked her wedgee! Uuuughhh! Nasty. Not only picked it, sent in the Mars Explorer to DIG DEEP to the center of the planet! Oh man. I almost had to turn away.


And there was this old man in the pool with a hairy back. He soaked up like ˝ half the water! There were FISH caught in his hairnet. Small children were trapped in his Chewbacca body mane.

Oh, and don’t get me started with the hair braiding. Give it up already! I don’t understand the Caribbean school system. It must have been like, “for an elective you can take Metal Working Shop, Computers, Art, Music, or Hair Braiding.” And apparently EVERYBODY ran for Hair Braiding. In the Caribbean every woman knows how to braid hair. They don’t even need to carry a passport when they travel. To prove their citizenship they just need 45 minutes and a comb. And they tried to rip off the foolish white tourists too. They were charging FIFTY units! So let me get this straight, for 50 bacon bits you can me look total white trash? Do you at least throw in a free WWF t-shirt? Daaamn! White people, don’t get your hair braided. It looks as stupid as a black woman in a blonde wig. It is NOT sexy. It is NOT exotic. It IS trashy. Getting your hair braided is for bims who don’t want to wash their hair for 3 weeks. It’s like, “If I tie my hair close enough to my scalp, the lice larvae won’t be able to penetrate . . .” No. Now, one braid is acceptable. A blonde bim with one braid with a bead on the end is saying, “Do me. Do me because I’m on an island vacation and for once in my life I want to be a SLUUUUUT!” As for nubs getting their hair braided—if you don’t play electric guitar then forget about it. Those guys can make it work because they’ve got groupies who’d suck their sweaty nipples with horse radish just because they’re famous rock stars. But you’re not. So don’t.


But I was a little disappointed in my hair braiding friends. Not one of the ladies would braid my underarm hair. I’m thinking, “my armpit hair is all long and nasty anyway, plus I never wash it . . .” Clearly, they were thinking the same thing. I offered them a decent amount of money to do it too. I guess a pair of shiny quarters doesn’t go as far as it used to.

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