“Okay, you go over there and be drunk with your coke”

“Where?  Over there?”

“Yeah and remember, you have to be drunk”

“Really drunk?”

“You can fall off the chair if you want to”

“Why?”

“That’s what happens”

“What are you going to be doing then?”

“I’ll be over here getting sick”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what happens too”

“Oh right.  Which one of us cries?”

“Well I’ll start crying after I get sick, then you come over with a napkin and hold my hair back so that I can get sick again”

“Is that it?”

“No, you have to shout at everyone to stop staring and then give out to the waitress when she doesn’t come to clean up my sick quickly enough”

“Then what?

“Then we’ll go back and see if dessert is ready”

000OOO000

This is an actual play of events between two young girls, sisters maybe 9 or 10, who were taking a break from lunch to pretend to be guests at the wedding we had last night.

Aren’t young girls supposed to be dreaming of being the bride and not the boozed up slutty bridesmaids pissed to within an inch of their knickers vomiting all over the DJ and making everyone else feeling uncomfortable?

Society, take a bow.

Om nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom

I remember seeing Maggie Gyllenhaal for the first time in that weird movie Donnie Darko.  There’s a scene where you can clearly see her nipples through her shirt.  This is exactly what I wanted to do to them.  And what’s more, when I imagined doing it, she had that exact same expression on her face.  That baby doesn’t appreciate what’s happening here, it’s just got a matter of fact look about the whole situation.  Fucker.

Now I’m not one to get into graphic detail, as you well know, but if I ever came home and Maggie was spread out on my couch like that, the furry thing wrapped around her would crawl away out of sheer unadulterated fear.  The squeals that I’d have emanating from that delicious example of woman would defy anything that would naturally occur.  See that look on her face?  It’s a look of “What are you going to do to me with that massive 4 inch rod of pleasure?”. She wouldn’t be wondering much when she woke up from a multiple orgasm induced pleasure coma.

So when she did wake up from that coma, she’d go back to her place and thoughtfully tie herself up to a weird wooden stool thingy while wearing a magnificent ensemble of fuck me thingies with her hair in that cool retro style thingy and that sexy I want you to take me in the tradesmen’s smirk slapped all over her Chevy Chase.

She can be sofisticated too though.  Here she is in a cocktail dress, probably waiting for me to come and pick her up so that we can go somewhere that might call for a cocktail dress.  Like a threesome with me and Emma Bunton.  She wouldn’t be wearing underwear though.  Classy doesn’t have to mean conservative.  She loves the feel of a playful breeze caressing her lovely lady lips.  Plus it would give easy access for Emma to dip her toes in for a dollop of lady lotion, which would wrinkle and marinade her tootsies up good and proper for me.

Enough with the vivid imagination shit.  I’d drill this woman until I struck oil.  Her muscles would ache and she’d have lock jaw.  Some of you may think that she’s just average, but when she’s crawling around your living room floor on her hands and knees purring and lapping up my pools of man milk like a hilarious and fuckable lolcat, I deny any man not to get a massive 4 inch throbbing semi and spank her with it.  I deny you.

I just love that she’s always got that smirk on her face, and she obviously loves this kind of sexy lingerie in soft lighting, pouty lipstick and the lazy come to bed and tongue my balloon knot eyes.

I’m off to write a nasty email to Christopher Nolan for blowing her up in the second Batman film, The Dark Knight.  What have we got to look forward to now?  Magan Fox in a rubber one piece suit as Catwoman?

Fine, I suppose that’ll do.  But I’m only putting a 3 inch effort in for now.

That’s what happens when I go back to my diet coke that I left at the front door where I was having a well earned 5 minutes peace and quiet to help an old dear down a flight of stairs, come back to it, take a massive thirst quenching and satisfying swig only to find that some spunk bucket dog wanking tongue too big for their mouth all star cunt has put their cigarette out in it.

I’ll say this once.

I’ve killed before and gotten away with it.  If I have to I’ll do it again.

I sometimes wonder if aliens are really out there somewhere.

They’d have to be really.  The universe is a huge place, even bigger than Twink’s gowl, but without the smell or gravitational pull.

So let’s assume that there are indeed aliens out there, what would they look like?  How could we possibly know?

And assuming they are out there, would they be advanced enough to travel the galaxies in search of new life and new civilisations?  We can only hope so, because I’ve been having the craziest cravings for alien cooch lately.

Maybe it’s to do with the copius amounts of alien themed porn I’ve been scouring for finding on the internet containing green ladies who want to probe my insidey parts with their probing probey things.

Green ladies with red hair all ready to take me away to their planets that are in dire need of repopulating and I’m the only one who can do it because my manly 4 inch member will make me a God on their planet.  The sheer magnificence of my virility will mean that they’ll pass me around the solar system as a replacement for all other males.

They will worship me and my gigantic alien member as the saviour of their species and do whatever I please.  This will include the banishing of all other males to the black hole of Twink’s gowl from where they can never return.  Then as reward I will let them offer their sexy alien bum bums for my own alien probing.

I will take their offering and they will please me.  Then they will put on sexy lesbian times for me with paddling pools full of custard and strawberry jam.  Then they will have contests to judge which one of them has the ability to pleasure me with their minds.  As we know aliens have the ability to control stuff with their minds, and this surely includes my cock.  So I’ll be there watching the paddling pool lesbian Olympics© getting mind jobs from the hot contestants and wondering if I should phone home to let people know I’m ok.

I suppose I could spend a few minutes reassuring people at home, but I’d have a pretty hectic schedule.  I mean it’s not just the paddling pools and custard deliveries, I’d have to find time in between all the cum circles.  They’re like crop circles in fields of crops, but instead they’re cum circles on hot alien chins and nipples.

Then I’d send them back to Earth to fuck with the farmers, but really just to boast of my cum circling conquests on the planet of Lesbian Spunk Slutopia 7.  I renamed it.

If I ever was kidnapped for the purposes of satisfying an alien race of hot alien women I wouldn’t phone home any way.  Despite me having too much to do, including constantly re hydrating myself, I very much doubt Vodafone coverage stretches that far.  Besides, I don’t have roaming minutes on my plan.

It’ll never happen though.  If it ever did, I wouldn’t get hot chicks like the ones above and they wouldn’t want my massive 4 incher.

I’d end up with one like this and her minge would smell like the back end of a lorry truck on a hot day reversing out of Captain Birdseye’s filleting plant.

I mean she’s bald for fuck’s sake.  And don’t get me started on those shoes.

12 pairs of women’s dress shoes – various styles, colours and sizes.  There were a few single ones, but I’ve kept them because they still have that newly worn smell.

2 digital cameras.  One Fuji and one Panasonic, both seem to be quite new with good specs.  Chargers not included, but both come with memory card complete with drunken shots of topless girls and a bouncer getting a blowjob for a girl whose date dumped her for her better looking friend – yeah, take that society.

63 dress suit blazers – complete with hire receipts.  Receipts can be used to claim back the deposit from the rental shop.

1 pair of black Kickers shoes, size 9.

1 single black shoe that seems to have been used to do shots of Jagermeister out of.  Will give this as a bonus to buyer of above Kickers shoes.

2 iPods – mostly full of Aslan and rebel songs.

17 mobile phones – various makes and models.  Most also have pictures and small videos similar to those found in the digital cameras.  They must be girl’s phones as the texts read mostly “D st8t of her in dat dress.  FUCKING SLAPPER lol”

Numerous shattered dreams of how virginities should have been lost instead of them being left in the back of a stretch Hummer while the driver pretended not to notice.

ALL ITEMS MUST GO.

All the above items were collected by a recon clean up team of the Red Cow Hotel this morning following last night’s Debs.

I also have several pairs of female underwear, but I’ll be hanging on to those, thank you very much.

I’m open to offers and postage is free in Ireland.

Get your bids in.