So Many Kinds Of Wrong

I was doing some online shopping tonight and came across this:

oscar

I have so many questions. I’m just going to go for it in one epic unfiltered run-on paragraph:

Are they period panties? Is this the new international symbol for “I’m sorry, honey, not tonight. I have a headache”? Are your lady bits emitting a smell only Oscar the Grouch can appropriately represent? Are these panties scratch and sniff? Is there a subgenre fetish for children’s show puppets that I wasn’t aware of until now? Do they make a croctchless version? Do they have a built in calendar alarm to remind you it’s Free Clinic Day? Are these exclusive to Dollar General or Dollar Tree? Because there’s a big difference. If they’re Dollar Tree, these bitches are mine TODAY. If they’re Dollar General, then I’ll have to cut out a pack of cigs this week to save up for them. If you push the little heart tongue, does Oscar talk dirty to you? The talking dirty feature is a deal breaker for me. No dirty talk and I’m buying my usual number of cigs and going commando.

Finally, are you so hot that you’re suffering from sleep deprivation due to the nightly unwelcome advances of your resident Love Torpedo? If your only way out is by plastering your Cave Of Wonder with a smelly, green, homeless, old, mean bastard of a puppet then you have hit the mother fucking jackpot. You’re welcome.

Personally, I think Count von Count is way hotter.

count

Plus I heard he’s a freak in bed.

Update: Someone took issue with the fact that I used a bit too much literary embellishment in this post. I only smoke on vacation and I rarely go commando. There goes my Oscar the Grouch street cred, damn it.

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