HI THERE.Follow

I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND C.E.O. OF MEN'S WEARHOUSE.
MY SENSE OF DIRECTION IS RENOWNED THE WORLD OVER FOR ITS ACCURACY AND PRECISION, AS I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO ENJOY EPICALLY EROTIC ESKIMO IMPREGNATING EXPEDITIONS IN THE FROZEN NORTH WITH ONLY MY WITS AND INCREDIBLE EXTRASENSORY SENSITIVITY TO EMPTY VULVAS TO GUIDE ME. I WAS PUZZLED, THEREFORE, TO FIND MYSELF WANDERING INTO A STEEL MILL LAST WEEK WHEN I'D MEANT TO BE DROPPING IN FOR A SURPRISE INSPECTION OF ONE OF MY MANY FINE STORES (AND THE NEW SALESGIRL'S HELLACIOUSLY HOT LITTLE HEAVENHOLE.)
BUT I KNEW MY PREEMINENT POWERS OF PUSSY PERCEPTION HAD NOT FAILED ME WHEN I LAID EYES ON THE OFFICE SECRETARY. A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH, A JEWEL OF WET, WAITING WOMANHOOD HIDDEN AMONGST THE FLABBY, HAIRY REDNECKS AND THE SWEATY, EARTHY LESBIANS WORKING THE MOLTEN METAL ON THE MILL FLOOR, SHE GAZED AT ME IN ASTONISHMENT AS MY LIMBER LOVE LIZARD LITHELY LEAPT FROM ITS PERFECTLY PRESSED PANTALOON PRISON AND DOVE UNDER THE DESK TO POUNCE IN A POWERFUL PANTIE-PIERCING PIROUETTE INTO HER PULSING PLEASURE-POCKET.
THE CLATTER OF THE TWO HALVES OF THE DESK (WHICH HAD OF COURSE BEEN RIPPED IN TWAIN BY THE INCALCULABLE GIRTH OF MY GRANDIOSE GURGLING GIRDER OF GLORIOUS GYNECOLOGICAL GAIETY) AND THE BREATHLESS SCREAMS OF IRREPRESSIBLE EUPHORIA FROM THE SEXUALLY SOARING SECRETARY OF COURSE DREW THE ATTENTION OF THE BEEFY, BIG-BUTTED BUSH-BURGLARS WORKING IN THE MILL, WHO RENOUNCED THEIR FOOLISH FEMALE-@#%^ING FETISHES AT THE SIGHT OF MY FURIOUSLY FOAMING FIST OF FURBURGER-FILLING FURY, BUT I DO HAVE STANDARDS. I LET THEM WATCH, HYPNOTIZED BY MY UNBELIEVABLY UNDULATING UBERPHALLUS’ GENEROUS GYMNASTIC GYRATIONS, BUT GEORGE'S GINORMOUS JOLLY JIZZCANNON IS RESERVED FOR ONLY THE MOST SURPASSING OF BEAUTIES.
AS THE SAUCILY SIGHING SECRETARY'S ******-GLUTTED BODY NEARED EXHAUSTION, I POURED A PUNCTILIOUSLY PRECISE PORTION OF MY PATENTED PENILE POWER PASTE INTO A BUBBLING VAT OF MOLTEN STEEL.
THE BUILDINGS CONSTRUCTED FROM THAT METAL WILL STAND FOR ETERNITY, SURROUNDED BY COUNTLESS ENRAPTURED WOMEN UNABLE TO EXPLAIN THEIR OVERWHELMING DESIRE TO PRESS THEIR PUCKERING PINK PUSSIES AGAINST THE WALLS. I GUARANTEE IT.

I wasn't given enough attention as a child.

Was it the bees knees though? That's the real question.

Cat's pyjamas.

apperently I have not been trigger happy enough with the 1.00s recently.

Maybe friday? 10:00 am good for you?

Or bring back the f'ing numbers so that people will be more inspired ot rate these idiots down.

I hit my head a while back and stumbled into =60, if that's what you mean.

You think I care about karma when I make posts like this in the asylum, or anywhere else?

Touche.

Dood. You should sig that.

I could miss a shift trying that.