I know many of you think I am brilliant and omniscient. All of which is very, very true. However, some of the infinite number of little factoids that are stored in my brain don’t like to come out. They are all comfortable in there all nestled in the synapses, and short of some type of hallucinatory drug, they don’t intend to migrate down to my medulla oblongata, which is the area of my oversized brain that sends incredibly sensible and witty messages to my fingers to type. This is a roundabout way of saying I had no idea who Micaela Schaefer is, I had to go look her up.

She is German, and she does entertainment stuff. You know, fashion model, DJ, singer, actress, that kind of gig. Now I’m not one to go gaga over fluorescent pink lipstick, but as you already know sideboobs kick me into high gear. What the hell is Micaela wearing? Is that 8mm videotape? And who put it on her? And how much did that guy pay for the priveledge? Anyway, sideboob isn’t even an issue when you have big c-cup melons and you have nothing but a few strips of tape covering them.

I would be in real trouble if I were in the audience or standing on the street when she walked by in that getup. Because I would spooge in my pants and fall down comatose. I can just barely catch a hint of some kind of crazy sexy underwear underneath that skirt, which is kind of disappointing but at the same time turns my hormone cooker up from high to laser hot about to blow up high. Ignore the geeky rubber watch, and assume it means she’s quirky and won’t mind boffing in unusual places/positions.

I know I like talking out of both sides of my mouth. In one post I complain that Halle Berry’s boobs are getting kind of saggy. Then the next thing you know I’m grunting and grappling and saying mmm I gotta have those. She’s a pretty girl, what do you expect. She is getting a little older, but aren’t we all. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy looking at her amazing mocha body, and those perfect white teeth, and did I mention the boobs?

See how that necklace sort of disappears down into the cleavage? Realistically, like for real, this is what I would like to do. A certain part of me would just disappear between her boobs. And then reappear. And then disappear again. Repeatedly. Until it was time to stop doing that. Either because I was not capable of functioning any more, or because I had to pick up my batman suit from the drycleaners. If they close, and I don’t get it, well then I might miss one of those special nerd parties I go to. Now that I think about it, maybe Halle could go with me, and on the way there, while I was driving, I would just eh fondle her. It would hard to get enough of that girl.