I Can Be A Badass Dj When

I've Given Him More Mixed Signals Than A Dyslexic Morse Code Operator.

This Must Be Part Of Mother Nature's Master Plan—making These Boys So Irresistibly Cute, In Such A Naughty Way, That The Purity Of Their Intentions Becomes Irrelevant.

I Figured Being A Bed Salesman Was A Job Of Biblically Bad Paradox. I Mean, Here He Was, Forced To Stand For Eight Or Nine Hours A Day, And The Whole Time He’s Surrounded By Beds. And Not Only That, He’s Surrounded By Shoppers Who See The Beds And Can’t Help But Think, Man, I’d Love To Lie Down On That Bed For A Second. So Not Only Does He Have To Stop Himself From Lying Down, But He Has To Stop Everyone Else From Doing It, Too. I Knew If I Were Him, I Would Be Desperate For Human Company.

I Don't See Why Ogling Same-sex Kissing Should Be The Exclusive Domain Of Frat Boys Whacking Off To Lesbian Action, That's So Sexist. Feminism Should Be All Inclusive- It Should Be About Sexual Liberation, Equal Pay For Equal Work, And The Fundamental Girl Right Of Boy2boy Appreciation.

Because I Withered Under The Glare Of An Actual Invitation, I Was A Firm Believer In Preventive Prevarication--in Other Words, Lying Early In Order To Free Myself Later On.