James sleepy. Beyond exhausted, actually. Needs: Blowjob, Beer, Burrito. Not necessarily in that order, but fulfilling as listed provides optimal results. The three B’s lead to C. Cuddles, Catharsis, Cooing
I’m a sap and a sucker for Bear’s eyes. Fuck off! Should you ever cross paths with us in the world of realness. Well, I pity you should he want to go shopping, and I, the living fashion possibilities rack and drink cozy, am unavailable? I swear to fucking gods he’ll use his witchy-woo on you, too. I don’t even realize it’s happening in the moment. It’s when I come back to my body after a few hours of feeling grateful for the chance to be reduced to a display rack in front of every way cooler than cool, smelly, stupid Portland hipster, that realization of just how fucking ra-tarded gay I am for my guy. His skills in molding you into whatever he needs or wants you to be/do transcends husband and can be used on anyone, at any time.
You’ve been warned. You’ll love it.
The Elect My Husband as the King of Awesomeness campaign is now concluded.
Vote Greyson-Meyers for Awesomeness! (Free imaginary bumper sticker and lapel pin with pledge of vote, or a financial gift to support the cause)