Courtney thinks that putting a beer between her tremendous breasts is bad idea. You know why? Because if she were really riding a motorcycle, she wouldn't be holding a bottle there. She prattles on about how both hands would be on the handlebars, holding a beer while operating a motorcycle is bad, very bad, shouldn't she be wearing a helmet while riding a cycle?, how's my hair?, are my teeth okay?, do my breasts bobble enough?, BLAH BLAH BLAH CANCELCAKES. God! Get rid of this torso deformity already! She's not even annoying enough to be funny. She's just plain UCK.
It would seem Bob-san agrees with me, because he goes over to his coworkers and says in Japanese, "God, she's a real pain in the butt. Good thing her breasts are so big." Yes, it is a good thing, isn't it? Hank4 thinks it's a good thing too. He thinks it's a good thing until I lick a Cheeto and shove it in his ear. Then he starts thinking about sleeping alone.
Marcy's in her trailer, putting the finishing touches on her Special Holiday Season Reynolds Wrap of a dress. My Aunt Tilda's Christmas fruitcake came wrapped in something very similar this year. I threw out the fruitcake. I kept the foil. I grab it from the kitchen. Hank4 holds it up to the TV. It's unanimous. Marcy is a Christmas fruitcake.
There's a knock at her door. Fruitcake answers it, and Meat is standing outside, wondering how he got there. It's called walking, Special Ed.
He wolf-whistles and drools at her. "Wow," he slurps, "you look fantastic." Marcy asks if they should go to dinner somewhere. Meat, while pawing her shoulder with his hoof, offers instead to go directly to his place because they could order in, get a view of the whole city, have a spin in the Jacuzzi, and then do it like they do it on the Discovery Channel. Marcy tells the good-little-girl voice in her head to shut the hell up, lays a smooch on Meat and says, "Sure. Let's go." They exit the trailer, and Schmarce wonders out loud if they should drive together or...Meat's way ahead of her. "You could follow me in your car," he purrs. "In case you wanna take off later." Marcy starts to listen to the good-girl voice again and pouts confusedly. Meat sees this and backpedals, saying that it's not that he doesn't want her to stay, it's just, you know, he has to have his back waxed early in the morning.
Damn. I don't think I've ever had a guy so blatantly tell me that he wanted me to fuck him and then leave. Well, there was my second boyfriend who shall remain nameless (his initials are Todd Schrenk), but he doesn't really count because we were broken up at the time. Oh, and he'd dropped three hits of acid so I don't think he really knew who I was. Or he thought I was Eleanor Roosevelt and I was trying to kill him. That might have been why he kicked me out of bed and started pelting me with paper clips...