So I'm sitting on the Comfy Chair, watching TV, drinking a bottle of wine (I've started to like Chardonnay, though I used to hate white wine), reading my book during the commercials, and what should happen to transpire? Taco the cat decides that it would be a good idea to take a nap on my gut! That's fine, more power to the cat, I freely admit that my gut is probably a pretty comfy place to take a nap if you happen to weigh eight pounds. But why, dear Taco, do you have to knead me before settling down for your nap? I'm not going to become any less lumpy by virtue of the fact that you're jumping all over me. More to the point, why bother stepping all over my testicles, if you're not even planning on napping on my crotch? I fail to see the point.
She looks innocent. Believe me, she's not. She's been endowed with Emasculation powers beyond our ken.
She looks innocent. Believe me, she's not. She's been endowed with Emasculation powers beyond our ken.
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