Guest Blog: Jordan knows bugs better than I do
Today’s post comes to us by way of Resident MVP of the Comments, Jordan. If you read the comments, you are probably already his fourth biggest fan (gotta leave room for his girlfriend, me, and his mother because mothers are always their kids’ biggest fans, right?). If you don’t read the comments, you might as well start because it’s your damn loss. Jordan has a lot of thoughts about tattoos and they are very good thoughts. As Jordan pointed out when I sent him this photo, I saved this as “grasshopper.jpeg’ and it is not a Grasshopper. He was at least 100% right in that assessment. Without further ado, Stamp Tramps presents its first ever Guest Blog entry, just in time for our 105th post!
You know you are a Bad Ass if instead of arms with fingers, or sticky pads, or webbed digits, you basically have the insect equivalent of Rambo-style spike trap that can impale someone in 50 one-thousands of a second.
Or, if you are having sex, your arms can saw the head off of your lover like a MS 441 STIHL Magnum™ Chain Saw cuts throw eights inches of softwood. The sex meanwhile has only gotten better and better as your lover (sans head) is not distracted by “thinking” and his/her body only moves to serve your every desire.
Why is all of this relevant? Let’s play this out a little:
You pick up this fine young lady at the bar/supermarket/Baskin Robin’s and you go back to her place. She has a nice little apartment, but something is odd. It looks like she wants to tell you something. So, she takes you in the bathroom. (You notice she has cute gold fish shower curtains and stifle a chuckle. But, it just adds to the girl’s girl-next-door-charm.) She pulls off her heavy sweater and is wearying this really cool shirt with insects and stuff on it. You think to yourself, “Those red, soft-as skin eyes almost look like areolas without nipples. Such an odd placem… woah, her boobs are sticking out of her shirt. Oh shit, that’s not a shirt, its a praying mantis… what… grasshopper… uh.. boobs? That feels good…”
Your last thought is “was that a dung beetle?” It wasn’t, of course, just one more embarrassing aspect of your untimely death.
Peter at the Pearly Gates acknowledges that it was the best sex you ever had. It is too bad you don’t remember it. Then he sends you down to hell because you didn’t donate any money to starving kids in Africa, which is justified of course, but the disappointed look he gives you only makes this whole experience that much more shameful.
All that being said, I would totally do it doggy style. Just in case.
*There is some evidence that this behavior (cutting off the male’s head while mating) only happens in the laboratory settings.
Verdict: fuckable, but it’s your hide on the line. TAKE YOUR CHANCES AT YOUR OWN PERIL!