All right, all right, so shoot me. =:-0
I goofed and reblogged the incorrect page. Here is the correct page.
Enjoy. 😀
Okay Peopleaneous. I’m about to perform a little exercise in exposure therapy. Here goes. Are you ready?
Breasts.
Boobs.
Jugs.
Tits.
Tatas.
Funbags.
Bouncy pillows of joy.
Those jiggly things.
Gazongas.
Hooters.
Knockers.
Rack.
Whew. I hated that. Like seriously, I’m cringing. You see, while I wasn’t raised in some sort of puritanical household, I was raised in the South where boobs are hidden except by tarts and women with boobs that defy the laws of nature and could never be covered even by the quilts of a thousand grannies.
It has been pointed out to me that I take it more seriously than most. Like. Super seriously, man. It’s not that I’m a prude, though I’m prudeish. I don’t mind sex jokes. I can handle sex scenes in movies, though uncomfortably at times. I’m totally vulgar and crude at times. To the point where I’ve embarrassed some of…
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