Dickagg is so cute
by Fuck me harder bitch clean rob November 1, 2020
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Steve-O's heartagram on the top right of his torso. Pretty much just a heartagram with a shlong hanging of the end instead of the point thing the normal heartagram.
has written above it 'ME', as opposed to 'HIM', the creators (namely Ville) of the symbol.
has written above it 'ME', as opposed to 'HIM', the creators (namely Ville) of the symbol.
Steve-O: Hey Bam, check this out (pulls up shirt to show dickagram on right of his torso)
Bam: Oh my God dude!! (laughs)
Steve-O: It's not about HIM, its about ME dude
(jackass crew laughs)
Bam: Oh my God dude!! (laughs)
Steve-O: It's not about HIM, its about ME dude
(jackass crew laughs)
by kenyen March 15, 2007
Get the dickagram mug.A word you randomly say out of frustration while playing call of duty black ops, or any other online game such as halo. This word usually means a faggot camper who doesnt know how to play the game right and all he does is crouch in the corner.
by Andrew & Matt December 12, 2010
Get the dickjagger mug.One who is not keen on being straight or cool. Someone of complete and total gayness. A person who you cannot bare to talk to because their homosexuality reminds you of "Elton John and Liberachi sitting in a Hot Pink Cadillac, sucking the filling out of a crispy cream doughnut, while listening to a mix of Elton John's."
Adam: "Dude, did you talk to Andrew about not coming over?"
Sam: "I almost did, but he is just so gay I can't bring myself to speak with him"
Adam: "I know what you mean. He is such a dickwaggle."
Sam: "I almost did, but he is just so gay I can't bring myself to speak with him"
Adam: "I know what you mean. He is such a dickwaggle."
by Sam Hendrickson November 24, 2007
Get the Dickwaggle mug.a homo-sexual male that tries to blow all of his straight friends in a joking kind of way except he is serious
Paul is a dickfaggot, he totally tried to put my schmack in his mouth.
Pat is a dickfaggot too.
I'm surrounded by dickfaggots!
Pat is a dickfaggot too.
I'm surrounded by dickfaggots!
by K MURDER September 24, 2009
Get the dickfaggot mug.Example 1: 'I ordered my plane ticket online without a problem. The dickage factor was really low.
Example 2: When I was traveling in country X, I needed to buy a train ticket. It took me 3 hours and almost cost me my life to go 2 km to get to the station. First I got a cab, but the driver apon just entering the flood of traffic clipped a horse-drawn cart;he got out and began a high-intensity verbal assalt on the conductor of the cart. So I started to walk to the station. The temperature started rising to meltdown levels. I walked to the side of road and my shoe was torn off by a partially open sewer hole.One shoe on and one off I flagged a cyclo (bike-powered taxi). I hopped over and got in it. After 10 minutes of break-neck peddling and hair raising riding i concluded that the cyclo driver was clinically insane or completely intoxicated or both as he swerved in and out of traffic and down the wrong way of several one way streets. As we rounded a hairpin narrow passage, I noticed that a bicycle wheel was rolling passed us. Funny that. Where could it have come from? A second later, our cyclo was airborne and sparks were flying off the axel and the tarmack from where our wheel had once been. Fortunately I hit the ground doing a pencil-stlye roll and didn't stop till my body wrapped around a U-turn sign. Now both shoes were gone. Before I moved, i did a quick inventory of my senses and body, a trick I do in morning yoga. Slowly, I made a stand feeling for my travel wallet unconsiously; it was there. Over the dust, pollution, motorbikes, cars, cows, and sundogs, I saw the train station. I looked left and right. Not Clear. I did this for 20 minutes with the same result. Finally, I saw a man cleaning car windows on the streets amongst the traffic. He darted in and around like a humming bird on Red Bull. As he drew near, I knew he was my safe vessel, my ticket to the other side and the train station. As we whipped by I jumped in behind him and mirrored his every move through the traffic. Within a minute, I was a meter away from the safe haven of the 'sidewalk.' Then, he turned and went back out into the center traffic. Within a nano-second, I decided to dart right and to the sidewalk on my own. I looked hard into the on-coming traffic, bent my torso and chest aft as a pick-up truck carrying scrap metal almost lopped off my head. in doing so, I put myself in harms way from the rear and a screamming head and horm from behind got me to bolt upright immediately. I paniced and sprinted to the sidewalk stepping on a broken bottle on the way. I tied off the bleeding cut and limped to the station. As I entered, I saw a line that was 50 people deep in front of the window selling tickets. I stood there three hours before gettting to the window. I told the seller I needed two tickets to K. He promptly stamped and wrote on a pair of tickets; I paid him and left. Apon arriving back to the hotel, I was asked how hard was it to get tickets to K. I responed with, "buying the tickets at the station was OK, but THE DICKAGE FACTOR of getting to the station was high--the dickage factor was through the roof."
Example 2: When I was traveling in country X, I needed to buy a train ticket. It took me 3 hours and almost cost me my life to go 2 km to get to the station. First I got a cab, but the driver apon just entering the flood of traffic clipped a horse-drawn cart;he got out and began a high-intensity verbal assalt on the conductor of the cart. So I started to walk to the station. The temperature started rising to meltdown levels. I walked to the side of road and my shoe was torn off by a partially open sewer hole.One shoe on and one off I flagged a cyclo (bike-powered taxi). I hopped over and got in it. After 10 minutes of break-neck peddling and hair raising riding i concluded that the cyclo driver was clinically insane or completely intoxicated or both as he swerved in and out of traffic and down the wrong way of several one way streets. As we rounded a hairpin narrow passage, I noticed that a bicycle wheel was rolling passed us. Funny that. Where could it have come from? A second later, our cyclo was airborne and sparks were flying off the axel and the tarmack from where our wheel had once been. Fortunately I hit the ground doing a pencil-stlye roll and didn't stop till my body wrapped around a U-turn sign. Now both shoes were gone. Before I moved, i did a quick inventory of my senses and body, a trick I do in morning yoga. Slowly, I made a stand feeling for my travel wallet unconsiously; it was there. Over the dust, pollution, motorbikes, cars, cows, and sundogs, I saw the train station. I looked left and right. Not Clear. I did this for 20 minutes with the same result. Finally, I saw a man cleaning car windows on the streets amongst the traffic. He darted in and around like a humming bird on Red Bull. As he drew near, I knew he was my safe vessel, my ticket to the other side and the train station. As we whipped by I jumped in behind him and mirrored his every move through the traffic. Within a minute, I was a meter away from the safe haven of the 'sidewalk.' Then, he turned and went back out into the center traffic. Within a nano-second, I decided to dart right and to the sidewalk on my own. I looked hard into the on-coming traffic, bent my torso and chest aft as a pick-up truck carrying scrap metal almost lopped off my head. in doing so, I put myself in harms way from the rear and a screamming head and horm from behind got me to bolt upright immediately. I paniced and sprinted to the sidewalk stepping on a broken bottle on the way. I tied off the bleeding cut and limped to the station. As I entered, I saw a line that was 50 people deep in front of the window selling tickets. I stood there three hours before gettting to the window. I told the seller I needed two tickets to K. He promptly stamped and wrote on a pair of tickets; I paid him and left. Apon arriving back to the hotel, I was asked how hard was it to get tickets to K. I responed with, "buying the tickets at the station was OK, but THE DICKAGE FACTOR of getting to the station was high--the dickage factor was through the roof."
by Royal Wulff September 14, 2009
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