[queuing up sexy saxophone music]
Today is Ken Day, bebeh doll, and that means I'm here to make all your sexy, sexy dreams come true.
Except maybe that one.
(Never again, Cancun. NEVER AGAIN.)
That's right, my sprinkle-coated sugar dumpling, I am about to rock your world ... by dealing you a hand of Blackjack:
Or, wait... this is a hot tub? Oh. Ok. EVEN BETTER. Mrowr.
Now, slide that sweet little personality of yours over here, and have an enormous glass of ketchup:
I warmed up this side of the concrete slab just for you. [eyebrow waggle]
What's wrong, my tangy berry sweet tart? Is the concrete not to your liking?
Perhaps you'd prefer some Satin Ice* sheets?
I don't lounge this casually for just anyone, you know. Mostly because I lack articulated elbows.
(*That one's for you, decorators.)
These boxers are really confining, though, my scrumptious fondant-wrapped cheesecake bite.
Here, let me slip into something a little more comfortable:
You can't see it, but I'm totally flexing for you right now. Unnng.
Ahh, I can tell by your dismayed expression that you're thinking EXACTLY what I'm thinking, my honey-drenched pudding pop: this DOES cover up too many of my "finer assets." [wink] Well, don't you worry. I can fix that.
Ok, my candy-coated cake pop! Prepare to meet ... THE LOINCLOTH OF LOVE:
Take me away, officer; I surrender to YOUR SEXINESS.
Oh, and I should warn you: objects in the rear view are much hotter than they appear.
Thanks to Sara O., Sanne V., Mary Ann B., Frank M., Laura S., Renee D., & Lauri M. for helping me retroactively ruin a lot of people's childhoods.