Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Dweeble
Dweebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.
They do, however, bust orange-face kissy lips while making dual sideways peace signs, while arm hooking the perfectly delectable tiramisu hottness of Kiya.
I would air guitar to six hours of the Jonas Brothers on continual loop while standing naked on stage at Staples Center just for the chance to lick the dried crystalline sweat beads left behind by her thigh after test using a Bowflex in 2007.
