I had been vaguely aware of the scandale surrounding some guy named something or the other at some sports channel, also named something or the other (when I say “vaguely” I mean it in the most literal way.) The whole thing had only bumped into the dim outer reaches of my consciousness because the photos showed him to be such a silver haired hottie, even if he did look very much like someone who would come in your mouth and then loudly deny being gay. This just in: research reveals his name is Steve. Steve Something or the Other.
Anyway, the eagle-eyed TJB has discovered a photo of the little homewrecker Stevie boy threw over his career and life for. Here you go:
Let us not be coy here: this is not the face that launched a thousand anythings. Mr Something or the Other looks like he could snag some pretty hot pussy and this is the best he can scrape up?
It just goes to prove a truism, one that explains why the word “Necrophilia” had to be invented, why both sheep and watermelons are regarded as sex toys in various parts of the world and why Robin Rogers, one of the ugliest girls in my high school was able to get knocked up when we were 17. The truth is, men will fuck anything. Apparently the phrase “Oh, what the hell….” does not regularly enter the calculus of desire of women. I wouldn’t know. I am a guy and just as capable of launching myself into the throes of rut based on “How bad can it be?” as any of my brethren. Oh, like you’ve never woken with regret as your first emotion and the need to bleach the part of your brain holding memories of the previous night.
I gotta go. I’m certain there are nude photos of Steve somewhere on the web (isn’t that what it’s for?) and I am determined to find them.