A Brief Note of Friendly Concern: Dear Sigourney Weaver

Pssst. Sigourney?

Sig?

Hi. How's junk? Listen, how's about we ditch these insufferable biddies and grab a brandy alexander or twelve at the nearest cocktail lounge? Sound fun? We thought so too.

Wait, is there a draft in here? No? Let's play a game called "pretend our knees are glued together" and have a little chit-chat. Coolio?

So here's the upshot. We have been trying to overcome our unhealthy obsession with famous sin-zones. After Sharon Stone assailed us with her vaginal tsunami and her cat-woman anatomy lesson, we sought therapy. When Agent Scully was stricken with a bizarre case of uterine worm-hole, we found solace in Jesus and vodka. And when Adrian Grenier went commando in his spandex Richard Simmons Jazzercise pants, we consulted the I Ching and sacrificed a goat to beelzebub. In short, we are doing our damnedest to heal our unnatural preoccupation with celebu-crotch. So why are you doing this to us?

See, Sig...it's like this. We adore you. We loved you in "Aliens in the Mist." You're a fierce broad (if chez Whup-Ass is ever infested by acid-spitting space slugs, you're our go-to gal). But fierce as you are, you also stand about seven feet tall, so your lady-parts are always at eye level. With that in mind, we have a teensy word of advice:

You might want to close the airlock on your space pod.

We know. If we found ourselves on a hideous sectional uncomfortably wedged twixt Barb, Joy, Whoopie, the auxiliary negress and the loudmouthed conserva-bimbo, we might experience a similar lapse in decorum. We can imagine spontaneously giving Ms. Walters a noogie or Ms. Behar a purple nurple. The temptation would be overwhelming. But giving network airtime to one's labia is just plain tacky. What's more, it invites bloggers with less taste than us to snidely provide the caption "Weaver's Beaver: Wide Receiver."

Nuff said?

When we look at this picture:

1. We fondly recall a family trip to Carlsbad Cavern
2. We see London, we see France
3. We wonder whether this was "The View" the audience expected
4. We are reminded to have our radiator bled
5. We can almost hear the ocean
6. We remember where we left our keys
7. We feel an urge to chant: "we have here before us Sigourney's clitoris"

xox
WAM

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Comments

[JWB3]

I laughed, and laughed. Perfect for a Monday!

[Whup-Ass Master]

why thank you, cubed...hope your week's off to a good start.

xox
WAM

[daisyfae]

She's certainly not doing her job as "The Gatekeeper"... time to cross the streams?

[Whup-Ass Master]

Indeed...it's time to raise the draw bridge, lest she be forced to eject an alien from the airlock.

xox
WAM

[rambosf]

Is that?...wait...yes, it's Jimmy Hoffa!!!

[Whup-Ass Master]

truly hilarious, rambo...we wish we'd thought of that joke.

xox
WAM

[Wholesale Handbags On Sale]

We appreciate the kind of gal whose hair pie doubles as an ice box. Moreover, it's the only way you could conceivably compel us to reach betwixt your thighs. However, while we always like our brew with a nice healthy head, that's hardly what we had in mind. And although we shudder to contemplate where you might have stored the pretzels, we'd be much more impressed if you did the same trick with a keg.

At any rate, thanks for the suds. You can pull your dress down now. By the way, do you have a bottle-opener? Oh. We see.

[Burberry Handbags]

hink about. So who better to write a charming book called "A Prayer Book for Spouses," which includes a Catholic sex prayer that opposite-married heterosexuals can say together before getting down to the unpleasant business of spousal coitus. Just prior to part where the wife does her duty by bending to her husband's will and allowing his spitting sin-serpent to spelunk in that place "down there" where Cathy-lick babies shoot out with alarming frequency, the couple gets down on their knees for a Jesus-approved orally-delivered prologue.

This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

[Hermes Birkin]

This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

[Burberry Handbags]

heterosexuals can say together before getting down to the unpleasant business of spousal coitus. Just prior to part where the wife does her duty by bending to her husband's will and allowing his spitting sin-serpent to spelunk in that place "down there" where Cathy-lick babies shoot out with alarming frequency, the couple gets down on their knees for a Jesus-approved orally-delivered prologue.

This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

[Wholesale Handbags On Sale]

As we all know, Cathy-lick priests are experts on everything sexual. Of course they're all celibate (wink-wink), so hippity-dippity is pretty much all they ever think about. So who better to write a charming book called "A Prayer Book for Spouses," which includes a Catholic sex prayer that opposite-married heterosexuals can say together before getting down to the unpleasant business of spousal coitus. Just prior to part where the wife does her duty by bending to her husband's will and allowing his spitting sin-serpent to spelunk in that place "down there" where Cathy-lick babies shoot out with alarming frequency, the couple gets down on their knees for a Jesus-approved orally-delivered prologue.

[fqsy_01@hotmail.com]

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[uggs outlet]

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