Dear Kissinger,
Maybe I’m out of touch. Hell, I’m 71 years old. But...
“Bad boy” chefs? Can someone explain this to me?!
God bless America,
John
# # #
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Happy feet
Dear Kissinger,
O, happy day!
The new Manolos come out today! I’ll be hitting the Scottsdale Neiman Marcus first thing. Nothing I love more than watching the women trying on those shoes...slipping them seductively on and off their feet. Mmm.
I remember being a teenager, working in Lehmann’s Department Store. I used to guide each lady customer back to the dressing room with her items. Then I’d surreptitiously hang back and watch the opening at the bottom of the door — waiting, just waiting, for her to slip off her shoes. Jesus Christ on the crucifix, the sight of those strange bare feet sent neurons zipping through my pubescent brain, and instantly my cock would be engorged until it throbbed mercilessly. I had to run to the toilet in the back store room to rub it out eight, nine, ten times a day. O, to be sixteen again! (Instead of an old man with a penile pump in his bedside table drawer.)
Anyway, this is just the sort of diversion I need. Things have been rough on the campaign trail, Hank, and it’s only July. Who needs this kind of pressure?
God bless America,
John
# # #
O, happy day!
The new Manolos come out today! I’ll be hitting the Scottsdale Neiman Marcus first thing. Nothing I love more than watching the women trying on those shoes...slipping them seductively on and off their feet. Mmm.
I remember being a teenager, working in Lehmann’s Department Store. I used to guide each lady customer back to the dressing room with her items. Then I’d surreptitiously hang back and watch the opening at the bottom of the door — waiting, just waiting, for her to slip off her shoes. Jesus Christ on the crucifix, the sight of those strange bare feet sent neurons zipping through my pubescent brain, and instantly my cock would be engorged until it throbbed mercilessly. I had to run to the toilet in the back store room to rub it out eight, nine, ten times a day. O, to be sixteen again! (Instead of an old man with a penile pump in his bedside table drawer.)
Anyway, this is just the sort of diversion I need. Things have been rough on the campaign trail, Hank, and it’s only July. Who needs this kind of pressure?
God bless America,
John
# # #
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