Warning: the following contains adult reflections, adult content and psychological nudity. Viewer discretion is advised.
(with apologies to Michael Savage)
This is your only warning. If you venture on from here, you do so at your own risk.
I really shouldn’t do this sort of thing, it is my job to reflect Lady M in the best possible manner which, as you know, typically requires the use of industrial strength Spanx, duct tape and boob belts. But since one of my faithful MOL’s filed a special request on the Boodles Jeans post, and because we’ve had a spate of down time on our hands since Asheville, I thought I’d play around a bit.
Here is Cinderella’s request:
“MOTUS, How about one of your famous photoshops? This time of MO in the Danica jeans or as we should call them "Caboodle Jeans"(caboose + boodle = Caboodle). Don't forget to include the platform mules. Please, please, please, pretty please.”
Well, the name alone should have sounded the alarm - “caboodle jeans.” How could stuffing that keister into something called “caboodle jeans” be anything butt pure evil for cripes sake? But as they say, “idle circuits are the devil’s workshop” and as I said, there really hasn’t been too much going on around here. But as I told Cinder – warned her really - even my hard drive has it's limitations.
And in case you’re saying to yourself, “Alright already, MOTUS, enough with the disclaimers. You’re starting to sound like a Goldman Sachs prospectus for a new debt instrument,” all I can say is, I tried to warn you. Now: children, out of the room; pets too, just to be safe – well, cats can probably stay - workplace alert and last but not least, break out the eye-bleach.
Oh, we’re definitely not in Kansas any more, Toto
Lord have mercy on my soul if Lady M ever catches wind of this. I’ve managed to hide that muffin top for months, hoping she’d get back to the organic salad bar. I sure don’t want to get on her list. She brought back cases of goofer dust from Haiti.
Oh, I shouldn’t have done this. I’m going to hell, aren’t I?
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