I see you darting your eyes between that water bottle and Jon Hamm’s peen log to compare their sizes. Would it help if I told you that half of Jon Hamm’s tube of Pillsbury rolls is hibernating up into his taint?
The magical thing about Jon’s honey-baked Hamm log is that it’s always looks like something different. Sometimes it looks like an obese weasel playing peek-a-boo in a bowl of key limes. Sometimes it looks like a Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast sliding off of a plate. And while Jon was taking it for a walk yesterday, it looked like a fetus in an ultrasound scan. It’s like Jon’s dick is always playing a game of charades with us. Jon’s piece is truly a lucky woman, because every time she pulls his pants down, she doesn’t know if a giant skin pretzel or a curling kielbasa is going to land on her forehead.
And I also threw in some pictures of Jon at an event at the Paley Center yesterday. How many times do you think a trick asked Jon Hamm if she could wipe that white powder off of his face with her chocha.