I want you to know something about me. I do not like creeps. I am so sick of creeps. Why are there so many?
We are sexual beings. When we think about what that means, then we realize that creepiness in an individiaul interferes with being sexual beings with, around, and about them. It is just unseemly.
This hairy-faced motherfucker with neckbeard and all that going on, just a guy who let himself go, comes up to me the other day. Now, I am wearing a mask for my protection and the protection of others in the community. This hairy-faced motherfucker has a mask, but it is a child's plastic Batman mask. It is the kind with just the face and a rubber band that goies around the back of the head. WTF? Seriously, dude.
This hairy-faced motherfucker wants to know if I am free for dinner on Tuesday night. And I am like, what? Do you really think that someone as hot as I am would go to dinner with a hairy-faced motherfucker with a plastic Batman mask on? What is this guy thinking?
He is persistent, I will give him that. He begins following me way too close and he is breathing heavily. I am like seriously, dude? Back the hell up. But this hairy-faced motherfucker with a neckbeard and everything just keeps following me and looking at my ass. When I turn around to address him, he looks straight and my perfectly round enhanced only by nature breasts, which are heaving their way out of a tight red shirt with a low-cut front. He is delighted. He thinks he is going to the melon patch if he keeps being persistent. Like, I mean, these guys actually think they can wear you down to where you go, "Okay, sure, I'll throw you a fuck." No way. That is a no go in this show.
This motherfucker was a damn fool. I led him right into Panera, where I knew the stuck up people who go there would give him a hard time over the neckbeard shit. Can you imagine what this dude's scrotum patch looks like? A fucking unweeded child's garden is what I'm talking about. I would not go near that fucking mess.
My sexuality is raw and real. It is right out there. But it isn't for everyone. Hands off, creepy guys. Hands the fuck off! Do you hear me? So sick of it. Can't be gorgeous in this town any longer. What is going on?
"My name is Harry," he says as he goes right ahead and puts his hand on my shoulder. Wrong move, dude. I snap his wrist with enough force to break his hand clean off. This is a technique I learned back in middle school when I found out my best friend lived at the town dump. She hid this fact from me. And then it was discovered that her father ran the town dump and Amanda used to play in the dump. So, I joined with eight other girls in beating the royal shit out of her and putting her in the hospital for two months. It was exciting and revenge is a dish best served cold.
The thing is, Harry has some kind of robot arm. I have his hand, but out of his wrist are coming wires and cables and a hard metal rod (someone ought to node that). So, I am like, WTF dude? And he tells me he is a cyborg. His name is Harry the cyborg. So, naturally I asked about his penis. And it turns out they gave him ten thick inches of penis that can stay hard for hours because there is a hard metal rod that goes inside it when it is needed for sexual activity and Harry can't really get into sex because he is a robot. So, he is basically a fuck mashine.
"You want to come home with me?"
"Very much so."
"We're going to have to give you a shave and put a bag over your head."
"That will be acceptable."
Man, what a night.