
David: It’s rare we feature exteriors on Lurid Digs, but every now and then a photo lands in our inbox that sets the staff into unhinged bliss. Forget the self-sucking attempt of this construction site exhibitionist (as an avid fan of the sport I’ll declare right now that it just ain’t gonna happen for this guy) and savor the What Was He Thinking? factor.
The gigantic blue barrel, the stacked red crates overflowing with empty Thunderbird bottles, the spread-out cement yet to be mixed. Why? And where?
The coup de grĂ¢ce? Two rusted sets of bed supports plucked straight from the backyard of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s Ed Gein?
Delightful. Delovely. Delirious.
Steve: I differ from David in that I am distinctly and certainly not a fan of the sport. I’m not supposed to be talking about this, but the real issue for me here is that it is almost never sexually arousing for someone to crumple themselves up like a wad of used facial tissue and yank their dicks toward their straining purple faces.
For me, the war-zone-slash-kiddy-pool combo is only a pleasant distraction from the discomfort and awkwardness that would otherwise be the dominating factor.
That’s a fraking kiddy pool. Fraking disgusting
The question is: why is there a kiddie pool here at all, in the middle of this very disturbing tableau? Do the contractors frolic and play splash games during their lunch hour? And what a charming site if indeed there are children nearby: the gaily painted oil drum (no doubt containing toxic waste from a nearby factory), the empty glass bottles and rusty bedsprings, and the powdered cement sandbox. I feel like I’d need a Tentanus shot just to enter this “backyard minefield.”
Yeah, he’s not gonna make it. He looks like he could be hot, though.
There is nothing so refreshing as 3″ of green water in the Green Zone. If he found somebody to shoot the pic it should not have been too tough to find somebody willing to ….well you can see where I am going here.
What happens in Indio STAYS in Indio. This is what happens when you answer a roomate ad in the Desert, the roomate gets hauled in for cooking Meth and all you’re left with is a kiddy pool and a bag of cement! He is floating in his own toxic waste dump. Bicth needs to cash in one of her diability checks and get a greyhound outta town.