Booty Game Too Strong?! Fucking impossible! Try me, bro. When I die, I hope my epitaph reads, potentially, as such: He Died As He Lived, Worshipping The Booty. Oh fuck, Oh me, Oh my. Where I am? I got, I got the vapors. The dog’s looking at me side-eyed, and I’m worried she perceives the eventual-embolism approaching. Finally. My body and mind soaked with Dew, my loins and shirt soaked with Booty Worship.

While I’m here, before my leaves fall, let me throw this out to you, fair Garbage Lords. This late-as-fuck but hey-at-least-I’m-posting-it edition of Desktop Thursdays.

Check out my rot-gut, trash existence! Then, I beseech you, before the long night comes, share your own world(s) in the comments section.

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Two weeks in a row! Desktop Thursdays! Go ahead, friends. Kiss it. It won’t bite back. May give you a little smooch in an honest attempt at reciprocity, though. What is “It”, you ask? Good question. The Universe? My stunning, cut, lean, mesmerizing bicep? A dumpster behind 7-Eleven? The choice is yours.

But!

Uh!

After you get done with your obligatory, state-mandated (the state of OmegaLevelia, obviously) smooch, hit the jump! Check out some peeks into my worlds(s) from the past week.

Then, after the smooch, after the checking-out-of-my-world(s hyphen-hyphen), display your own existence in the comments section.

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Clap your hands, say Weekend Open Bar!

Clap with me, rhythmically at first! Ignore, ignore your eyes rolling into the back of your head!

Clap your hands, say Weekend Open Bar!

Clap with me, now with a bit of horror, a pinch of fear! Ignore, ignore your mind being severed from your body!

For! My friends! To the Omniverse!

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