Notes From the Voodoo Cafe: Make-Up For My Hoo-Ha. Like That’s Going to Happen.
Because I’m thinking, ladies, this: if he’s such an uber-critical sort of man that he’s down there, naked, scouting the terrain, and instead of thinking this is the happiest he’s been since Christmas 1969, he’s thinking, “Goodness, this must be some really old and worn-out scooz,” then that’s one dude who wasn’t really all that interested in the first place, you know? He might as well go down to Carpet City and offer his services in vetting the Berber. Then he could go on all day long about color and texture and spring-y-ness, and everyone would be ultra glad.
Funniest. Article. Every.
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