The Troll Bag
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We don’t feature a lot of pics of the trolling middle aged wanna-be ‘bag desperate to occupy space near a hottie for a few minutes to fuel a month or two of rub-out fantasies. But here’s a classic example. Enjoy that moment, Trolly. It’s all you’re gonna get from this angelic New England debutante type.
Trolly looks like one of those Wall St. Journal editorial writer hack types. Some bloated, vastly overpaid middle-aged putz who angrily thunders away by day about moral values only to pack up a bottle of Oxy Contin, anal beads and a twelve-pack of Viagara and catch the red-eye to Thailand for a four day weekend. You know those types. Pissed off they squandered their youth editing copy for the travel section of the Omaha World-Herald, only to take out their later life frustrations on the rest of us.
I’d keep ranting but I want to suckle hottie’s neck like a hungry aardvark looking for termites.
