28 posts tagged “narcissism”
My Twitter has been a wonderland of awesome today. If you want, nay, crave, nay, NEED the total Kevin Wolf experience, you're really missing out if you're not following me over there.
Just sayin'.
I took this yesterday, but forgot to put it up. As you can see, I shaved my head, which means that you ladies can now fantasize about rubbing my bald head when I'm "down there" on the job, if you catch my drift.
The tee-shirt says "IT'S MOTHERFUCKING BOOZE TIME", and it was among the first batch of shirts from the Married to the Sea web-comic. It always gets confused looks from polite society when I wear it out.
That is all. Look. Lust. Touch yourself.
This was specifically requested by a neighbor. Enjoy it, friends, because the only way y'all are gonna see it again is to meet me in the real world.
There you go. Proof that I have teeth and am physically capable of smiling. There's nothing wrong with my jaw muscles (insert dirty joke here).
Ladies! I know you've been tearing at your hair and wailing for lack of visual stimulus to push you over the edge during your semi-nightly bouts of self abuse. Well fear no longer! The long overdue slab of beefcake known as the Kevin Wolf mirrorshot has returned.
I shaved my goatee a couple weeks ago. I hated it. I had to wait for it to grow back.
Now, once more, you can stare at the erotic beast reflected in this toothpaste-spattered bathroom mirror and gasp in awe and arousal, as God intended.
I am hot sex with meat sauce and a side of god-DAMMMMN!
I put a hoodie on immediately after taking this pic, but I wanted you all to see that, regardless of what a certain spiteful and unfaithful female has to say on the matter, I am not fat. I am certainly out of shape, as one would expect from a fellow who spends most of his time writing crap on the internet, but It would take maybe one month of solid exercise to put me in the "fit"camp.
But whatever. This isn't about former lovers who went insane over the course of a week, this is about showing all you lovely Vox-keteers what you long to get between your legs. As promised, I am clean-shaven so you needn't worry about getting beard-burn on your inner thighs and other sensitive areas.
I am but a flight away upon one of your "aeroplanes", or a short drive by automobile if your residence is closer to Casa del Lobo. I'm not flying cross-country for pussy ever again. From now on, the pussy must come to me. You hear me, pussy? YOU will COME to ME!
Yeah, we're gonna do this on Saturdays, now. Not Mondays, not Sundays, but Saturdays, for no other reason than it's the finest day of the week. I will attempt to do it every week, but I'm not making any promises.
Now, I swear I looked sexier than this when I snapped the picture. I guess it's true: the camera removes 5 factors of hotness, or whatever. Do they say that? This is after buzzing the head, but before shaving the face. Next week you'll probably see me sans mustache, which really is, if you'll pardon me saying so, when I really look kissable and altogether face-rideable.
Anyway, for the sexually frustrated girlfriends, wives, and single ladies in my neighborhood: Saturday is now your regular appointment with brawny orgasmitude. It's only going to get hotter as I embark on my Quest. What is my Quest, you ask? Why, it's very simple: it is my goal to orally pleasure every woman of eligible age and sexiness on the planet.
Recently, I have been told that I am both intimidating and narcissistic (by different people, and in different contexts) on my blog. How does one respond to such criticism? Well, if you're me, you say, "That's a hell of a thing to say to somebody this handsome," before stripping off your shirt to wrestle a tiger while simultaneously penning the world's most heartbreaking love sonnet (to myself). But that's just me, that's how I roll.
I mean, what, is it the title of my blog? The banner of my eyes glaring out with imperious intellectual superiority? Because I don't get it. Just because I say I'm better than you doesn't mean that I think I'm better than anybody, just better than you. Is that so hard to understand? I'm just as approachable as any other golden demigod deigning to bless the earth with the divine imprint of his foot.
And I am goddamned humble as all motherfucking hell. I'm so humble and unassuming that I make Buddha look like an entitled fratboy douchebag.
How about you guys? Do you think I come off as intimidating? Huh? Do ya, punks? How about narcisstic? I can't help that I'm as beautiful as Michelangelo's most fevered gayboy dream, it's just the way I was born, or, rather, offered, to a cold and unworthy world.
Sporting the hoodie because my house is cold. At least, the bathroom is; my bedroom, however, is nice and toasty, so feel free to take off your jacket, kick off your shoes, shuck off your pants, throw your blouse in the corner, peel off your socks, unsnap your bra and lose those panties.
Too cold, now?
Worry not, my shivering blossom; we'll get you warm soon enough.
PORN WA-WA.
(Translation: feel free to get naked so that I may have sex with you.)
Maybe some of you forgot what a hot slab of primo man-delicacy I am. Maybe you need some extra visual material for fantasizing the next time you're getting your rub on.
Whatever the reason, I decided to gift you all with this image of my chiselled physique and classically handsome Hollywood face. Remember, ladies: masturbation is no sin when it's inspired by something as fuckable as me. So go right ahead: pull up that skirt and have a quick one right there in your cubicle.
Nobody will know. IT WILL BE OUR LITTLE SECRET.
