"Women Want Me; Men Want to BE Me"

Me:
Camouflage-print button down says 'I'm Friday-night-services classy with a touch of urban flair.' Buttoned all the way up, of course. Little puff around the wrists to add some bulk and give my arms the illusion of robust musculature. Timeless black jeans capped with the anti-establishment sneakers look which I definitely wore to rebel against societal norms and not because I cried when my mom said I have to wear loafers. Top it off with an impeccable side part and, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we've got what the ladies call a 'must-fuck.'

Jeremy:
Tragically underdeveloped runt of a boy. Tried to compensate with a stylish faux-tattoo on the back of his hand, but...sorry, I'm not feelin it. At least he can find comfort in the fact that his enormous ears grant him the power of echolocation.

Ivy:
It's bad enough that Bozo the Clown decided to trip on acid and barf all over her dress, but does she really have to have only one leg? Why God? Why?

Mom:
Beautiful; classy as always. But why the close-fisted shoulder touch? Is she not proud of her oldest son? Have I not made you...proud?.......Mother?

Emophilia

Eating Complimentary Pickles on a Science Barge

My older snister Ivy lives in Astoria, NY, a humble seafaring community specializing in ass stores. She found hersnelf in Astoria one day when a band of robber barons mistook her for a pot of potted pottery and implanted her in a makeshift cubicle on the corner of Mean Streets and Adventure Avenue. You can find her to this very day finding merry ways to canoodle with cannolis and noodles of every ilk, but never mixed with milk unless the plate is washed and left for 3 hours of more. For more information, dial a phone to the bleet of your own fart set free of thousands of those bondages which only a person of her young age can still appreciate.

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From Athens

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