Alright, alright. So yesterday’s post was... -

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Ask me shit! About the author(s): MjH grew up in the suburbs of Encino, CA, born into a family of hilarious Jews. His mother, a witty New Yorker with a sharp tongue, set the bar pretty high in terms of what he looks for in a wife/Jewess.

Forever wearing glasses and on the hunt for Jewish cunt, our man wants you to know that he once schtupped a dame at DIVE! in Century City.

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Alright, alright. So yesterday’s post was admittedly a bit girly and way too long. Sorrr-Y! As penance, here’s a little tidbit of info that I thought was kind of a funny secret, but after a chat with girlfriends recently have come to find out is somewhat common knowledge. Anyway…
You know that type of bikini wax girls get that takes it all off but leaves that little square tuft of hair right at the verybottom? The waxing place I go calls it the “Mystique,” or “full Brazilian?” 
It’s sexy right? Well dudes, when you’re performing acts of oral delight on a girl sporting this look, and she looks down on you (literally, not metaphorically) from that angle…
You.
Look.
Like.
Hitler! 
Surprise! Try not to think about that next time.
Hugs and kisses,
Molly. 
(**Note: Picture by Terry Richardson. It was Matt’s choice…not mine…perv).

Alright, alright. So yesterday’s post was admittedly a bit girly and way too long. Sorrr-Y! As penance, here’s a little tidbit of info that I thought was kind of a funny secret, but after a chat with girlfriends recently have come to find out is somewhat common knowledge. Anyway…

You know that type of bikini wax girls get that takes it all off but leaves that little square tuft of hair right at the verybottom? The waxing place I go calls it the “Mystique,” or “full Brazilian?” 

It’s sexy right? Well dudes, when you’re performing acts of oral delight on a girl sporting this look, and she looks down on you (literally, not metaphorically) from that angle…

You.

Look.

Like.

Hitler! 

Surprise! Try not to think about that next time.

Hugs and kisses,

Molly. 

(**Note: Picture by Terry Richardson. It was Matt’s choice…not mine…perv).



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