Are Warsies (Star Wars fans, their term not mine) secretly Jedi masters of the female anatomy? Probably. Hear me out. Benny Blanco and I were walking back from the liquor store this Tuesday, and we were talking about the clitoris (which just took me like five tries to spell) and the best way to describe its location to a less sexually adept kid. Why we were having this conversation? There were a couple of girls behind us and obviously the best way to get into their pants is to indirectly tell them that we know exactly where to find the pearl in their slam clam. The best way to track it down? Enter the trench and work your way up until you find a little button and fire away til she explodes. Boom. Don't even use the computer, Luke. Use the fucking force. Trust your instincts. But it's only about the size of a womp rat or whatever? Fuck it. You'll know it when you come to it. And once she explodes, give it a rest for a while. Don't wanna tickle it too much. Am I right? Fukcin' A, Warsies, chowing down like champs since 1977.
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