I Still Love Kathleen Turner

We were on the trail.

We were going to run down and back.

I was running with Hiroyuki.

The weather was unseasonably cool, about 62 degrees and delightfully overcast – awesome.

“You should have changed your massive, filthy adult diaper before we started. I can almost taste your reeking, festering brownuous Bowel Genie. Ah the smell of it!”

“I am madly in love with Michele Pfeiffer and Kathleen Turner.” I said.


Urban Vista

“One is almost 60 and the other has put on a few…” Said Hiroyuki.

“Look, the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady isn’t here right now, so I can speak freely. Women are a rare commodity in any size or shape. Plus, real men, Neanderthals just @&$€. They @&$&. It’s what they do.”

The cool air and shade (pronounced ‘Shar-day’) along the trail was refreshing.

“All women have their unique charms and they are not easy to come by in any size shape or form for even the most attractive, influential men. Exactly as Kathleen Turner looks right now, I would literally @&$? the ¥£>#  out of her until one or both of us had heart attacks. She is still beautiful and awesome.”

I said as we hit 9:35 for the first mile.

Women smiled as I ran past… odd I thought, normally I get the evil eye. Am I the only older dude in shape out here?

“I can read the bubble over your head. Yes you are the only dude over like 30 who is in shape out here. You could @&$@ my pants off right now if you want. But you’ll rather lust in you heart for Kathleen Turner.” Said Hiroyuki.

“She’s so majestic, so hot. Her age and figure just makes her even more fascinating. I can almost taste…” I was interrupted by Hiroyuki.

“Stop. Just stop. You would rather @&$# her than me? Really? Like wtf, old man?” She barked.

We turned around at the two and a half mile mark. We passed some hiking families and groups of cyclists. No one noticed the macabre, ghastly diaper-stench of ancient, curious death.

“Hiro, it’s not a competitive thing. A man just is attracted to a certain woman. It’s subjective beauty. The VFPHVSL thinks there is only an objective standard of beauty. But tell that to my enormous, massive, glistening, titanic, causes a solar eclipse, gnarled… {CENSORED PA DEPT OF AGRICUTURE AGRICOLA AGRICOLARUM… O MENSA!} Translation: Its my blog, so I can make it as big as I want to, so there.” I soliloquized.

Three miles, just under 31 minutes. Not awful.

“Oh you and your humongous, pulsating Easter Island godhead. Ah the taste of it! @&$€ me goddamn you! My youth is slipping away!”

Hiroyuki snarled.

Four miles. About 42 minutes.

We passed another nice family. I was praying Hiroyuki wouldn’t say more horrific perverse drivel.

Five miles. We weren’t even tired.

“Botendaddy. Get in my van and @&)€ me right now. I’m dying here. I yearn for you tragically.”

I climbed into the van. It was sweaty, funky, tanned, *hot* Hiroyuki. But I was really thinking about Kathleen Turner.

“Iced Latte with Vanilla?”

Peace be the Botendaddy



About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
This entry was posted in Critic's Corner, Dining, Exercise, Fashion, Food, People, Running, Technology, Weather and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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