BOYS IN CAPS
It's Chicago in April and unbelievably, we have summer weather!
I walked outside today with the exact same look that the boy on the left has. Basically...
"What'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis Tower?"
Ummm... They didn't grow 'em like this when I was living in East Tennessee.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found out that their bodies come from an "All Paula Deen Diet"?
Unfortunately, that is exactly the kind of diet I've been on for awhile now and my body is looking less and less like these guys and more and more like Ms. Deen's husband.
And for the record, my mother feels the same way about Paula Deen's husband that I feel about Kerry Degman. So, it's either diet or become Redneck Oedipus. The choice is clear.
It's only a half moon this week. And something tells me, from the looks of his makeshift thong, we should be happy that it's only a half moon. As Bette Midler once said about Madonna...
"Pity the poor soul that has to rinse out THAT lingerie!"
Now, Mr. Polka Dot Bikini, on the other hand. I would LOVE to see all of that.
And feel it. And smell it and taste it.
Hear it? Actually, not so much. Why destroy the primal, intimate, touching of his soul
to my soul, by having him tell me things. About himself. Like his name.
DAMN, I WAS DRUNK LAST NIGHT
If want to take advantage of someone by getting them drunk, and if you're too horny
to wait the full 11 seconds for them to chug two beers and at least act drunk,
then do what these boys did - - simply pour the beer on them!
This will get them out of their clothes in seconds. Unless, of course, like some members of my extended family, they actually enjoy wearing damp clothes and smelling like Amy Winehouse.
A little wine purposefully spilled on a white t-shirt and
you get to sleep with Catherine Deneuve? Count me in.
Hell, spill half a Lunchable on my shirt and I'll sleep with Catherine Deneuve.