Kill, Fuck, or Marry?
Ladies and ambiguous amphibian fans, unite! We are back with a fresh installment of Kill, Fuck, Marry.
This week we will eschew the obvious candidates that make deciding how you’ll fare considerably easier than it could be (see: Scott Disick vs. a bag of potato chips) and instead make the hard hitting questions seem more real than that season of The Real World in Hawaii.
So, if someone were putting a condom, a gun and a wedding band to your genital, head and finger in that order would you:
A. Choose death, intercourse or marriage with Mrs. Beverly Bighead, everyone’s favorite freak from the deceased Nickelodeon hit (and come to think of it, anomaly of a kid’s show) Rocko’s Modern Life? I would like to point out Bev’s generous child-bearing hips, strong aversion to wearing bras and the fact that her daily uniform was a pair of high-waisted acid wash jeggings. Use that information as you see fit.
B. Force yourself to make the same decision when considering The Headless Horseman (Halloween is upon us, after all) — though, pro tip: he is headless so if you choose to fuck him, don’t count on any reciprocity in the diving area.
C. Get tangled in the same multifaceted debacle for Miley Cyrus’s tongue. (It can’t speak without a mouth but it does still maintain the ability to lick sledgehammers and make you uncomfortable when positioned near Robin Thicke).
I’ll let you know how I fare if you let me know how you do. Okay? So…