If you’re in the El Centro area of California and a single strand of ginger hair that looks exactly like what one of the sun’s pubes would look like flies by you, lure it into a petri dish with promises of a vodka shot and send it directly to the third stall in the men’s bathroom at New York City’s Port Authority (they know how to find me) and then we’ll play a game of hot potato when I send you a bouncing check as a gracias.
Prince Hot Ginge stepped onto American soil yesterday (Oh, get me a pile of that American soil he stepped on too and if you pour it into one of these, I’ll add more zeros to your trampoline check!) to begin a two-month training program in California and Arizona.
Everything I want to say about this picture is already being said by the eyes of the dude in the crossing guard vest. Who needs a TSA wand when you’ve got eyes that can zoom straight into the royal nalgas of Prince Hot Ginge. If you stared deep into that dude’s eyes, you’d see the reflection of red ants carrying sparklers over two majestic sand dudes. (Yes, I’ve been taking writing classes from Courtney Stodden.) Thank you, neon vest dude, for doing what a restraining order tells me I can’t do!
via Daily Mail