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By Uber Pig, Section Diaries
You're one of those tortured poets who's been to see The Vagina Monologues. Don't try to deny it, because we know what you're going to say: It was the peer pressure, is all. And it's cool. You're a product of your environment just as much as we're a prduct of ours. Here's a question for you though: Did you get a big, friendly bear hug from that sexy trustafarian girl? The one with the hemp dress and the blonde dreadlocks? The one who cried like a bridesmaid at the big standing O?
I bet you did, stud. And it felt good, so warm, those teats rubbing up against your chest and your hands roaming down to that ass; her natural pheromones working overtime, powering past the deodorant crystals and the patchouli and the body butter to inspire a chubby. Here's another question for you, stallion: Did you mount up?
Didn't think so. She had you pegged for a neuter is what happened, and then she got all freaked out after discovering the stealth-cock. And then she got angry: How dare you infiltrate snug harbor in mangina mode? It's cool though. Because we've been there and learned it all the hard way. While hippie chicks may wade out in the still waters and don't wear fishnets, that doesn't mean they're defenseless. All women are born with a passive gaydar. Welcome to the counterkulturkampf, souljah.
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