The Velvet Helmet
Velvet’s Helmet isn’t even hair. It’s some form of bacterial infection taking root. I don’t know whether to mock his douchebaggery or spray a topical antibiotic on his head and hope it isn’t a resistant strain.
Or just kick him in the nads and steal the sextuplet hotties O.J. style.
Perky Braless Blue has that young Teri Hatcher “crazy eyes” thing. The kind where every minute you spend with her you have to weigh whether the potential for hooking up outweighs the nuts-o factor.
We’ve all been there. Putting up with four hours of insecure verbal nonsense pouring out from a Hottie’s mouth like an avalanche of psychoanalytic backwash. A cascade of fragmented shards of traumatized ego, attention deficit pathology and massive Daddy issues.
But you take it. Because of that promising hint of Perky Braless Boobies. If you can just hurdle the psychological trainwreck and get to the boobies, it’s like winning the Pentathlon.
