I am mortified

A text rolls in.

‘Billy Crystal has your bottom. Yours is nicer tho, obv’

I mean… What?

If he’s got my bottom how can mine be nicer? And also…

Precisely which version of ‘When Harry Met Sally’ is Soph watching where she gets to ogle Billy Crystal’s bottom? Because I’ve seen that film and I can’t remember seeing his bottom and thinking ‘That’s mine!’ (in a non I-would-quite-like-to-roger-that-bum kind of way), obv. Is she watching a Director’s Cut (Scandinavian Version) which has previously escaped my notice?

But aside from these vexing points, I’m not naive.

I know when I’m being buttered up. It’s when the butter pools between ones legs and squidges down between ones toes, natch.

B.

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5 Responses to I am mortified

  1. Trixie says:

    Eeeew! that last line nearly made me puke with that vision! lol!

  2. Soph says:

    It’s right at the beginning when he leans into the back of the car to get his grapes – he has a very small, pert little bottom which made me long for yours.

    Which is nicer – obv;)

    PS – it was jean-clad.

  3. Brennig says:

    Trixie: Sorry. Perhaps it would help if you thought marge (not Simpson) instead of butter? Or KY? Except we only use the expression ‘buttered up’ not ‘KYd up’, if you see what I mean? 🙂

    Soph: This thing of which you speak ‘get his grapes’… this is a euphemism for something, maybe? 🙂

  4. Masher says:

    I’m sorry, have I stumbled into some sort of adult fetish site here?

    Butter. Grapes. Buttocks.

    I think I need a lie-down.

  5. Brennig says:

    Masher, welcome to my world. 🙂 But actually… no, not fetishists. Just lunatics.