Hey guys, remember crimping (If you say that you don't, you are either over 30, a dude, or lying, because we all loved that bullshit in 1992)? I just found this blonde chick's picture on The Facehunter, and apparently we actually looked pretty good. I know, I'm as surprised as you! I don't know if I can fully get behind this in the same week that I realised that Superdrug are selling leather-look scrunchies, because rather than snorting with derision I am actually extremely fucking interested in this prospect. I mean, a scrunchie? Holy shit, 2009, do you really want me to remind you of the last time we were all forced to think about scrunchies in the 21st century? Alright then:
"When fondling his manhood, slip a hair scrunchie around the base of it. The tight scrunchie combined with your touch creates an amazing sensation." - Cosmopolitan Magazine
Remember that? Yeah. That's what I thought. I actually felt I had to make the font size "extra large" to try and stop your brain from rejecting everything it had just processed like a poorly-matched skin graft. The tragic thing is, the last time I read this I thought "Jesus fuck, who has a scrunchie to hand when they're giving a hand-job, Denise Huxtable?", and now I'm toying with the very real prospect that the answer to that question might soon be "Me.".
(I was planning on going out and getting some slutty new lingerie today, but when I told F he proffered that he sees underwear as "another obstacle between me and tits." Sometimes my life really is like a charming, quixotic Jane Austen novel, and I feel like I need to share that magic with you all.)