I don’t think a week has gone by in the last few months that I haven’t blogged Kim Kardashian. It’s actually getting to the point where I don’t even know why I blog her. It’s not like I consciously want to blog her, but it’s like a tractor beam of boobs and butt dragging me slowly towards her small moons. It’s like my penis is the Millennium Falcon and she is the Death Star of Love. I want to put up my front deflector shields and go Endor all over her hairy Wookie, even if it does smell bad on the outside. I want to fire my proton torpedo into her exhaust port, but I wouldn’t be disappointed if she just wants it impacted on the surface ...
... I have got to stop watching that Star Wars marathon on Spike TV ...
Kim Kardashian's lumps for Hump day
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