In case you’ve ever wondered if those bimbos at Abercrombie and Fitch are judging you… here’s your answer.
Gay boys shouldn’t eat. And they certainly shouldn’t eat at a place that traffics in cleavage and vaginas.
Clint has only just left the party and already he’s outed himself as being as big a tool as the people he posted. Rather than going gently into that good night, he’s taken it upon himself to make sure he won’t be forgotten, by inviting the new STFUG writer to become a fan of Friday Beefcake, because porn isn’t already free on the internet—actual porn, by the way, none of this muscled straight dude not wearing a shirt bullshit. What are we in junior high? You’re so desperate to see a nipple that you’ll embarrassing yourself in front of all of your friends and relatives? Way to go Clint. You’re a rockstar.
As you can probably tell by the change of the image under the blog’s description and the use of such high level punctuation as the em dash, this blog has taken on new ownership. Clint’s pansy-ass ways are no more, and you can expect this blog to be getting a lot better. For one thing, the jokes will be spelled correctly. So look forward to that.
Look at that… a gay boy’s quick judgment is NOT limited to just popped collars and Britney Spears music videos.
Props to this guy for his immense inner strength. Those two travesties are usually enough to justify jumping in front of the A train.
Survey time! Which of these guys has had his heart trampled more times than the doormat at Therapy?
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