Monday, July 02, 2007

One Horny Improvement Blind Vice

Houses in Hell-Ay, just as domiciles round the world sometimes can be, are often used as backgrounds for movie and TV film projects as well as photo shoots. In fact, there are companies that specifically farm out T-town’s more posh houses for whatever media project comes a-callin’—and I’m not talkin’ porno shoots (that’s a diff number ya call, trust). These housing minders like to think they’re discreet (usually they are) finaglers of design and commerce, sort of architectural matchmakers, if you will. Very snitty and highbrow, exclusive, that sorta thang.

Which is why Butt-Burning Bruce, media and film legend of sorts, called one particular firm like the ones mentioned above. B3 hasn’t exactly been working that much as of late (so, no, all you hard-working detectives, it ain’t Monsieur Willis, I’ll say that much right now). Mr. Bee, uh, needed some loot—fast. What better way to score some major quickie moolah than to rent out his supercool lovelorn pad perched so magnificently in the City of Fallen Heartthrobs, right? So, he did. And now he regrets doing so.

See, when the film company that subsequently came in to take advantage of B.B.B.’s hipper-than-slick streamlined job, what just about everybody involved on the project got instead was what B. left in the oversize master b-room. And, no, I don’t mean he simply forgot to flush. Butt-Burning failed to remove a fancy jewelry box from a polished bathroom counter. Not that fabulous gems and baubles could have been stolen, not at all. Carats of far greater value (i.e., kinkiness) were inside: sex toys, to be exact. Guess they’d been placed on the counter for washing, one supposes. And sure as you can smell a whole lotta strawberry-flavored lube right about now, B3 had an entire assortment of dildos, whips and ticklers in the wooden container. Used. All of it. Gross me out with an industrial-size bottle of 409, already! Hey, Bruce, don’t you know you’re supposed to put that crap in the dishwasher, boyfriend? Gosh, straight guys never know how to get really debauched efficiently, do they? (By the by, B-boy, those playthings for your partner—or you?) It aint: Harrison Ford, Hoff, Cuba Gooding or Bruce Willis. It could be: Tom Cruise but I doubt he needs the money. Um...it has to be someone who was once hunky but now kinda a nobody - like Mickey Rourke...but then again why would we care?

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