zymyrgy

There's one thing that I remember EXCEEDINGLY well about my lust monkeys. Tattoos? Hot, but not when the tattoos become the person. Am I fanatical about creamy white skin? Oh very much yes.

But the REAL thing is - if the girl I'm seeing in on the Reubenesque side of the physical spectrum, I'm all over her like maple syrup on a McDonald's sausage biscuit. Why is that? I know it's not all about the mammaries, but it's probably more rooted in the biological knowledge that I, as a close relative to the Bigfoot tribe (and the Crow, and the Scot-Irish) not only have a predilection for the boozies, but I also prefer a girl who could LIVE through a nuclear winter if need be. I mean, hell, look at my ass in the tutu there to the left. I'm not and never will be a small boy, even when I'm pudging out in drag. Shit, I can lift my boy Sammy six feet up and give him enough stability to fix a fuse if need be (fortunately for my back we've never tested this out). Anyway. Each time I hear a friend or a lovely new darling in my life say, "I've got jiggly butt and I need to not" I want to give the girl a sammich.

Oh, how I likes the whole-milk lattes.