I was checking out Original TMX and had one serious laugh trip. Back then, I used to pay so much attention to the way my blog looks, and even installed a chatterbox. On the tagboard of my old blog, I found a rather interesting… proposal, which was so funny I just have to blog about it:
For purposes of translation, an apparently “hot girl” named “sexy_katrina4” is apparently attempting to solicit cybersex from yours truly. It’s a sickening reminder, but I have zero experience with legitimate sex, much less cybersex. Hmmm… maybe I should take up the offer of the sexy fourth Katrina without a surname, admit to myself that I’m a pervert, and have at least one thing to brag about to my friends when the topic of sex comes up (so to speak).
I’m not a moralist, but cybersex is wrong. If you watched “Napoleon Dynamite” before, you would know that the people you get to meet on the Internet – much less “have sex with” – would probably not be who you were really expecting. Like when Kip met LaFawnduh. Worse, you may even end up in an online sexual predator sting operation and find yourself condemned, shunned, and ostracized by even by the denizens of McDonaldland because you’re the type of person who would have sexual intercourse with Grimace, doing the “Brokeback Mountain” thing at The Hamburger Patch.
So who says that “I wish I knew how to quit you?” line again… can Grimace even talk?
Of course, if I stumble off my rocker again, I might just take up the offer for cybersex. The bad thing is, I’m a blogger. Pardon me while I make a stereotypical comment about bloggers in general, but there is no way I’m going to pass up the chance of telling the entire world how my sexual encounter with sexy fourth Katrina without a surname went. I’ll do the smut-on-the-Interweb thing myself. With my virtual 27-inch genetic jackhammer, I ended up virtually ploughing sexy fourth Katrina without a surname’s virtual steaming, juicy virtual love tunnel. Oh yes, she virtually took all 27 inches of my rock-hard virtual love rod.
Well, so much for bragging rights. Sorry, sexy fourth Katrina without a surname, this 27-inch anaconda ain’t leaving the jungles of the Amazon.
Don’t get any ideas, pervert.