Seattle, you have been waiting long and you have been waiting hard for a Wonkette Drinky Thing and Lovepile of your very own. You have been waiting long and hard because WE HATE YOU. But considering you are such dedicated Wonkers that you have thrown your own Fauxty Things, and considering also your comrade and our web developer Shypixel lives in Missoula, Montana, which is reasonably close to Seattle, and we wanted to meet him after doing much flirting and sexual harassing in the sexcret wonket chatcave, to which he responded quite positively, we decided to throw you one anyway. (Again, to be clear: this was so we could meet Shypixel, not so we could buy you beer, because of how WE HATE YOU.) Luckily, our date with Shypixel -- which has lasted 19 days so far -- is still going kind of okay, we guess. Right now we are on an island -- a literal island, where we have thrown crab pots at crabs and thrown rocks at the water and thrown our dog at a deer, for murdering -- so, you know, whatever. "Date."
So much hate, so little beer.
Nono, we have an ironclad sex contract.
The contract is not ironclad, the sex is.
I'm from there, and I don't either...
Someday you will jeer like I jeer?
Hannah?
but... but...
We brought a dog with us!
Pretty sure you would get shot for that in Montana...
Galvanized pipe as a condom?
I knew I should have been more specific...
Was one of the photos of you looking all sophisticated in my ShyShades?
Well, WELCOME. Now prepare for your beatings.
I love neekid twister when the twister mat has been oiled up
Meanwhile: Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin' on our 'Trix ...
What that's a euphemism for, I don't want to know. Or do I?