Are all of you readers (all two of you) tired of me being starry-eyed over Ann yet? It’s basically been a week of constant posts about Ann (Yup, every post except for Naked Thursday). She’s amazing and it’s really easy to just write sappy post after sappy post.
And yet… I’m feeling a little disgusted with myself. Usually this nausea comes from reading other people’s smoochy-cute blogs, this is worse since I’m writing it.
Right now, I feel like I’m at risk of going all soft and fuzzy if I don’t write something moderately offensive (Have you ever heard of a Brazilian Flapjack?). I mean, my street cred has got to be rapidly dropping with each amorous word. My testosterone levels are probably falling, my balls are probably receding and my manliness might be justifiably questioned after the Nicholas-Sparks-like posts I’ve been putting up.
Something must be done.
This is like the Global Warming of my blogging world. The balance of the Johnny Id Universe has been thrown off and something drastic must be done to right the scales.
There’s only one thing to do:
Draw a couple having doggie-style sex on the back of a velociraptor that’s breathing fire on the moon.
Or even better…
A couple having doggie-style sex on the back of a velociraptor that’s breathing fire on the moon, with a couple “Cone”-headed aliens cheering them on, underwear lying around and a machine gun.
Testosterone levels… rising… rising… Muscles bulking up, IQ dropping to masculine levels (low), cock getting harder.
The balance of the Johnny Id Universe hasn’t been completely restored yet, but it’s getting closer. I might have shown a little more soft-underbelly than usual, but this is still Id’s Redbook. Velociraptor sex and all.