Yeah so…

Objectum Sexuals…

What do I really say about this?

What do you say to someone who has the Eiffel Tower tattooed between her tits, and apparently married to the structure?

I will say that I really dig their model building skills. I will say that. Bravo ladies.

I will also say that going forward, in the future, I don’t want you near my kids… and the fact that you fuck a carnival ride does not sit too well with me.

Like the Berlin Wall? Ok fine.
I imagine that is commonplace in Germany… There is a reason we cringe when someone says “German Porn.” Normally this is due to the involvement of bizarre torture, feces, machines, electricity and costumes borrowed from the Hellraiser series.
No big whoop. Germans are freaks, I get it.

The banister? You know what, what you do in your own home is on you…
Personify your bow and arrow (I love that she named him Lance, that was rich), all good.
Who am I to blow against the wind? Will I judge you? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do you really give a shit? I hope not… I doubt it so far.

Listen, I have seen a stripper hopped up on crack-cocaine fuck a Christmas candle lawn ornament before (and it wasn’t even Christmas season). I am completely desensitized. But I am also grateful that I had the choice in the matter as to whether or not I wanted to witness that. You won’t find me in Tijuana at some Donkey Show for a reason kids. Besides I go to TJ for over the counter pain killers and other magical delights.

I guess where this is all headed is like… ok cool, I get it. You’re some freaky bitches. In most cases I dig that (not so much here). But my concern lies in the fact that you are fucking the Golden Gate Bridge. That is getting close to home. A bit too close for comfort as they say. I can feel your breath on the back of my neck. I know you are on my heels and frankly I just don’t want you fucking my stuff. I am saving up for this Michael Jackson Moonwalker bust (see last week’s post), and all I need is to come home and see you wild hoes throwing down the Motley Crue Challenge on MJ’s head.

No thanks… already.

So more or less my position on the topic is as follows: “If it gets you off then fuck it… literally”
Just treat me like a drug free school zone and stay 100 yards away from me and my shit. Pretty fair deal I think.
It’s called a compromise, you wild crossbow fucking bitches.
Get ‘em girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl.

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