You have absolutely got to be kidding me. There are no words. Wait, of course there are.
No wonder the teddy bear is lost. I'm quite confident he bugged out...as did the six bears before him. Smart little guys. The lack of commas and improper capitalization were probably the last straws.
A "bit unusual" is a bit of an understatement. If I were to dominate you, it would be to scrub my bathtub and dust my knickknacks. That's the shit I want to see done, not wasting food so you can get your rocks off and scare away another bear.
I also take offense at the "sissy" comment. I wear panties and I can assure you that I am no sissy. I'm fairly certain that I could kick your ass. Or at the very least shoot it. I'll remember to wear my flowery underwear this weekend when I'm rappelling down the side of a high-rise building for charity.
But let's get down to the Thanksgiving side dish elephant in the room--the creamed corn. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? That's got to be the most f***ed up thing I've ever had someone email to me. The only time corn should be in a diaper is after a toddler eats it...not so your junk can float around in some creamy cradle of maize. Of course you would be doing this alone--because who, in all honesty, really wants to get in on this? Maybe there's some dominatrix with a mashed potato fetish out there for you. Whip those potatoes. Whip it.
So that's what I think, and, no, you cannot be my bitch. My sissy pants and I are bitch enough for both of us.
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