December 2011
10 posts
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Me: I've just seen Benedict Cumberbatch's bum and I now understand why people like butts. That thing is mesmerizing. It's like a great white circular chariot, responsible for carrying the most perfect upper body in existence, and held aloof by two beautifully crafted stilts.
Friend: That's...poetic. Actually, I feel a bit embarrassed for him just by reading that.
Me: His bum is like two cream pies mushed together on top of thin cream pillars, covered by perfectly whipped mounds of cream, and garnished by curlie-qs of chocolate.
Friend: Okay. That's enough. I get the picture.
Me: His bottom is the moon, his body is made from the constellations of stars, and his hair is the dark black of space. He stretches on, vast in his beauty, ageless, endless, and infinite.
Friend: Stop. Please stop.
Me: His buttocks is like-
Friend: Oh. I’ve just looked him up. That is a rather nice ass, yes.
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