The first time I met the Prime Minister, I had the audacity to laugh at his high waisted pants covering his ample midriff. I've also had the pleasure of watching the CEO of a local conglomerate devouring nostril pickings. Another time, an unattainable luscious spread of a rather delightful dish slithering across the room had the bouquet of a constipated camel.
The people I met, but the rest were fabricated in my mind so that they become approachable, weak or undesirable.
The next time I look into your eyes like I'm all ears when I'm all mind, I'm trying to contain myself from getting into your pants. And dont mind that hint of a grin either.
2 comments:
I don't understand men. Good thing I'm butch.
yes, i can see where the old "picture them in underwear" trick has its limits.
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