Ruses versus Perfidy

Until we can manage a Butt Wedding, I sit outside the moonshine in the shadow of the house in the sand with the dogs. Until we can get Ass Married in matching pajama jeans, the bitches and me will turn our heads at the exact same moment when there's a noise in the bushes, and I may let out a tiny, low, preliminary "bruff," involuntary-intermittently. Until we can consecrate my Man Maidenhead, all other activity is dull and domestic-animalistic.

by Mike