I'm not much of a sports fan, having given up on it when they stopped throwing Christians to lions and boxing started to suck. I try to keep on developments in the world of professional athletics insofar as they almost always wind up involving the criminal justice system.I had no idea who Brett Favre was until a couple of months ago, other than he's a really old guy who gets paid a lot to play a child's game and retires a lot. I also figured that he might be a drooling retard, given that playing professional football is among the surest ways to wind up like that. Other than that, he couldn't have been more anonymous to me.
That should go to show you just how wrong I can be sometimes. In recent weeks, I've learned that Mr. Favre and I are kindred spirits and old-fashioned romantics with a love of modern technology.
My younger readers might not know this, but there was a time when a comely young lass wouldn't automatically know whether or not a gentleman caller had gorgeous genitals upon their first meeting. Well, I suppose that you could've resorted to flashing, but broads don't tend to react well to that and the law has more than a few things to say about it, too. Life was so dark and horrible before the Internet that I prefer not to think about it at all. It was just a hard time to love they way we were meant to.
Anyhow, Favre met Jenn Sterger a couple of years ago and took a fancy to her. As you can see from the picture above, she's the picture of loveliness, although her head is exactly 15% too big for the rest of her body. But what a body it is. It is not only a work of art, it's a playground for a man to release his inner child in and on.
So Brett did what any modern gentleman would do, he texted her pictures of his cock. What else can you expect from a man fully in grasp of l'amour with all of that wonderful technology at his fingertips? If that isn't what Al Gore was thinking when he invented the Internet, I just don't know what to believe anymore. I can't tell you how many times that's worked for me. On the other hand, my putz is a wonderful thing to behold. If you saw it, it would just take your breath away and women can't help but fall in love with it. I try not to talk too much about it, on account of how modest I am.
But Ms. Sterger decided to make a "thing" out of it, mostly because Favre wore Crocks when he filmed himself jerking off. Guys, you should never wear Crocks. Chicks hate those fucking things on a man. And they aren't wrong. Plastic slip-on shoes were designed for infants, special-needs adults and no one else. Women are very attentive creatures and even the most beautiful of wangs won't distract them enough that they won't notice that you're wearing them, at which point you're doomed.
Brett was therefore destined to be disappointed when he asked for a video of Jenn masturbating in return. It's tragic, I know, but most broads are just too fashion-conscious to overlook a texted pledge of devotion. Thankfuly, I don't own a cell-phone, so I don't tend to be as impulsive as Favre apparently was. I plan these things accordingly, including even my footware. But that's just me, I'm a romantic.
I guess the moral of the story is this; Don't wear Crocks. Ever.
My younger readers might not know this, but there was a time when a comely young lass wouldn't automatically know whether or not a gentleman caller had gorgeous genitals upon their first meeting. Well, I suppose that you could've resorted to flashing, but broads don't tend to react well to that and the law has more than a few things to say about it, too. Life was so dark and horrible before the Internet that I prefer not to think about it at all. It was just a hard time to love they way we were meant to.
Anyhow, Favre met Jenn Sterger a couple of years ago and took a fancy to her. As you can see from the picture above, she's the picture of loveliness, although her head is exactly 15% too big for the rest of her body. But what a body it is. It is not only a work of art, it's a playground for a man to release his inner child in and on.
So Brett did what any modern gentleman would do, he texted her pictures of his cock. What else can you expect from a man fully in grasp of l'amour with all of that wonderful technology at his fingertips? If that isn't what Al Gore was thinking when he invented the Internet, I just don't know what to believe anymore. I can't tell you how many times that's worked for me. On the other hand, my putz is a wonderful thing to behold. If you saw it, it would just take your breath away and women can't help but fall in love with it. I try not to talk too much about it, on account of how modest I am.
But Ms. Sterger decided to make a "thing" out of it, mostly because Favre wore Crocks when he filmed himself jerking off. Guys, you should never wear Crocks. Chicks hate those fucking things on a man. And they aren't wrong. Plastic slip-on shoes were designed for infants, special-needs adults and no one else. Women are very attentive creatures and even the most beautiful of wangs won't distract them enough that they won't notice that you're wearing them, at which point you're doomed.Brett was therefore destined to be disappointed when he asked for a video of Jenn masturbating in return. It's tragic, I know, but most broads are just too fashion-conscious to overlook a texted pledge of devotion. Thankfuly, I don't own a cell-phone, so I don't tend to be as impulsive as Favre apparently was. I plan these things accordingly, including even my footware. But that's just me, I'm a romantic.
I guess the moral of the story is this; Don't wear Crocks. Ever.
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