Yeah so I do like women. In all shapes and sizes (no offence Kiddo!) But it’s well, to give an example:
Scene: I come back from work (London), go straight to my room coz I’ve had a hard day’s work. I look at these two inflated, oval shaped bags, each a loose handful. I give a tentative squeeze.
I see the light
Me: Bobo!! Why are your fake boobs on my pillow!
Bobo: Because, I don’t need them and they came with my new bra.
Scene: Me and Bobo on couch
I hear an expulsion of the flatulent kind
I turn my head and Bobo has a beatific smile while staring at the TV
Right
Scene: Me talking all fuzzy to the Short One
ShortOne: Okay, I need to take a shit now
Me: (double take at her French)
Scene:
Talking on Skype to a friend: Dude, my vulva hurts
(Me: blink blink)
Yeah, I just had a Brazilian wax
(Me: still quiet, imagining someone approaching the General with hot, molten wax, ready to grab the curlies and yank them off)
And it ..
(me: having zoned out with the mental image of jumping off the table, grabbing a towel and barely covering myself running to find my happy place while Bertha, the large Scandinavian is chasing after me with a bowl of hot, not-the-fun-kind wax)
And now Bobo sends me this
3 comments:
Hahaha...great read dude. Cheers!
Thank you!
biatch! sellout......words fail me.
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