Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Flex Luthor
Lookout, Superman!!
Flex Luthor’s hatching his diabolical plan for world domination!!
And by Superman, I mean Jennifer.
And by hatching his diabolical plan for world domination, I mean hoping for a drunken boob arm-touch when Jennifer’s getting out her cell phone to call her roommate to come pick her up.
Flux shows off what hours of masturbation can do to a man.
Also, Flux is the new way to say Flex, if you haven’t heard. Clearly I was too preoccupied by Stokes Theorem to spell Flex’s name right…
The Flux Capacitor’s complexity capaciousness far exceeds that of the “Flex Capacitor” above, who cannot grasp that cammo on the head doesn’t work well in combat in combination with a white T.
I’m excessively enamored of alliteration.
Hmm… this is me testing to see if Gravatar worked..
Crap. Jennifer’s got bigger biceps than I do.
But I think my moobs are bigger. Yay!
I’d put my Kryptonite in her Fortress of Solitude.
I have to say this is one of the only hotts that actually outshines the ‘bag to such an extent that I can ignore him completely – what an angelic face, wow
Flex Luthor, an early favorite for weekly and monthly honors. He’s got it all, the steroidal glow and the concomitant Neanderthal jawline, kissy lips, douchebag accessories and a bleethy hotty that should be on the arm of any self-respecting douchebag.
Sorry, I just came from watching the Bacha Bazi “Dancing Boys of Afghanistan” on PBS’ Frontline this evening…took me back to the parking lot frolics of recent posts and also DJBello.
I mean, there may well be a place to send these douche dancers after all, if they’ll pass the scrutiny of the men who enjoy these girly-boy dancers. But I wouldn’t want to be accused of child endangerment.
If they dance as in their videos and flex like Luthor, they’re shoe-ins.
She’s transmigrated her boob onto Flex’s right arm.
Or, in the eternal words of youth everywhere, an arm flex merely demonstrates his “tough titties.”
I want to apply x-ray vision to her Daily Planets.
Her Kal-El was made for my Jor-El.
I could stuff my Metropolis into her Smallville.
I want to Lois Her Lana, and Lang her Lane’s.
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Kristen Kreuk. I.O.B.
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B.R.B.
I want to read her Daily Planet.
Oh, Flex: if only biceps were brains/cockk/money.
Oh, Jennifer: if only forehead were self worth/security/Valtrex.
@C.H., 7:33, 4/20
I.O.B.?
Regardless:
Damn!
I.O.B. = Inappropriate Office Boner.
.
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Tip o’ the cap to Pfah for coining that immortal phrase. And yes, I am still in the office. Fuccen work.
And a tip o’ the cap to you Douchie Howser for that link.
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I believe a visit to the executive washroom is in order.
I would heat vision her impermeability… wait, coming up with Superman-related double-entendres is harder than I thought it would be. Drunk, I mean.
Whither Ms. Oblongata?
the only thing i know about Superman literature is Lois and Kryptonite.
…
i hope Jennifer is too passed out to care.
I would lovingly rub copious amounts of Gold Bond Medicated powder all over Jennifer’s biceps and forehead, all the while whispering the Portugese National Anthem into her ear.
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Chicks dig that shit.
“Yo, bitch! Get outta the picture. Yer blockin’ the gun show!”
Flex is gonna douche it out (“duke” it out?) with Crowdbag for the Weekly – book it.
@Dicy –
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I speak for the panel in expressing gratitude for the proper operational capacity of your gravatar.
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In short, boobies.
Meathead — (n) See Flex
Flex — (n) See Monosyllabic
Flex shows what 300cc’s of weekly deca shots can do to a bicep while Jennifer reminds me of why I need to join the gym aerobics class not for the exercise but for the excellent view:)
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