Hello assorted whores and man-whores!
It's a gorgeous day in the neighbourhood! Mr. Rogers has already stopped by once for a quickie. Old guy knows how to handle his shit, I'm telling you! I made him draw the blinds though. I don't need to deal with two types of gag reflexes.
In case you haven't noticed because you're indoors working for the man like me, spring is in the air! Which means love (or least copious amounts of estrogen and testosterone) is also in the air. Fact. We've all seen Babmi, right? If there's anything I've learned in life I've learned from Disney movies. Crabs have Jamaican accents. Candlesticks haves French accents. Siamese cats and people have slanty eyes. Black people talk in jive-speak and wear pimp hats and don't work. All women are either virginal, obedient housewives or monstrous old evil hags. It's just science!
Anyracism, as you will recall, In the SPRING, an adult Bambi is reunited with Thumper and Flower as the animals around them begin pairing up with other sluts. Though they resolve not to be "twitterpated" like the other savages in love, Thumper and Flower each leave with newly found bonefriends. Look at these two. She's like "wait till you see what's under my soft cotton tail" and he's all "I'm so pulling your ears like the forrest tramp you are when you have my third fluffy leg in your mouth." Yum.
Bambi is disgusted, until he runs into Faline (mmmhmmm) and they become a couple. Score!! As they happily dance and flirt through the woods, another buck appears who tries to force Faline to go with him. Bitch! Though he initially struggles, Bambi's rage gives him the strength to defeat the older buck and push him off a cliff and into a river below. Fuck, I'm so turned on right now...
And so we learn that pairing off and porking in the woods is only natural in the spring. Everyone becomes Twatterpatted (a spin off of Disney's PG term, meaning "wanting to pat or have one's twat patted") and there's no fucking way around it!
This leads me to my question du jour: Can straight men and straight women (sorry gays, I'll talk about your sexier and more interesting politics on this issue another time) be friends? I'm talking FRIEND friends. Real friends. Not "I tolerate you in public" or "we say hi when we're out in a big group." I mean, we talk on the phone, hang out alone sometimes, shoot the shit for hours even in a big group, etc, without the dude's peen accidentally falling into the chick's ass. Myth or reality?
I leave it to you, my opinionated young bucks, to throw some feedback all up in my comments section (or email me if you wish to remain discreet, i.e. if you're a coward) and I shall compile the results and report the ugly truth back to you. Meaning, I'll probably just give you my opinion on the whole thing, but I'd still like to hear what you have to say first. Sometimes other people have ideas too! I learned this from reading it on a bathroom stall, not from Walt and his infinite wisdom.
To be continued...