These pants have too much flavour!


When one purchases a new pair of trousers, wouldn’t it be only proper if the goddamn manufacturer put a disclaimer or a warning label or whatever on there that indicated the intensity of taste you were about to slip on. I mean, that’s my skin in there! C’mon!

On that note, does anyone have a remedy for flavour rash?

Eyes like fine corndogs


At night when the soul is seeking whispers in the dark, I lay there, eyes open, flesh all out and sweaty, all in and questing hard. Where are the whispers? Are they hiding? Why? Do they not know my skin and spirit and organs and bones and whiskers wish for their silky pleasures? For their slithery knowledge? Where are the whispers in the dark? Come out of the shadows and tickle me sweet and deep. Let’s do this.

Spaghetti and meatballs and hot tubs are miracles


I found that the best way to deal with the stress from, you know, the weight of the world and all them bills and shit is to just relax with a good salad and some cold brewskis and some good friends and great conversation!

Now, my only concern is that perhaps occasionally some folks may miss that the essential part of the whole thing is that you must be nude.

It’s rare but it happens.


Sippin’ Champagne and Bangin’ Hard!


Now that I’ve got a solid financial foundation built and am rigidly sticking to my budget I’m going to finally take the plunge and get one of those memory foam pillows. Dreamland here I come! Thanks, fiscal responsibility! Now if only I could buy my way out of this wicked bad rash. Man, that itch is raw. I think the best way to describe it is if you were able to transform every movie about World War II ever made into a piece of sandpaper and then you had that sandpaper injected into your ass. Yeah, that would be about accurate.