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 grâce? 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.