I like looking at photos of boobs and butts. I love looking at photos of pretty faces. I hate looking at pictures of cooters and bungholes. It's okay when there is a real one right there in front of me, preparing to be boarded, but a photo of one has been known to gag me, like when my Dad used to show his food at the table.
And ladies, if you don't have a body that makes men drool, and makes women go slit their wrists in despair, please keep your clothes on around a camera? Thanks.
And that goes for guys, too. If I met the designer of the Speedo, I would stab him in the neck. And I don't like thongs on women, either. I have a vivid imagination, and I can just see what that sucker must smell like after they've been flossing their asshole with it all day. Yeesh.
Underwear was designed to be a fart and fluid barrier, and if you 'go commando', you are a nasty disgusting person and you should die. You make me sick. Frankly, I don't know why someone hasn't come up with disposable underwear that you could dispense like paper towels, and just throw it away at the end of the day.
Frankly, I do not understand you women and your pantie fetishes. You strip down to them, and prance around the room in overpriced strips of material, thinking to arouse us...heck, just get that shit off and out of the way, and let me at the good stuff. When I'm hungry, the wrapper is just annoying.
If your tits hang down to the floor, heck, I don't care, just hold them up and play with them. And don't smack me in the head with one, that's all I ask.
And all of that 'romantic' bullshit you ladies pull, with candles and rose petals and all that happy crap? Cut it out. Your candles stink, and there are tiny mites on the rose petals that'll get in your bush. And fuck do I ever hate Barry White.
We just likely had dinner, I'm working up a good crap, so just point to the parts you want me to lick, and let's get this rodeo started. I got a turd at T minus 45 minutes or so, and you don't want to be in the vicinity during any potential pre-launch engine testing.
So, there you go...I hope you learned something. Who needs that perambulating penis Dr Phil when you've got me?