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THE KILLER EYEBROW WANTS HIS COOKIES ON THE PLATE

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Perhaps you expected something else but I am a man of unexpected expectations. Intrigue is my game. If you expected sexy pictures, you obviously think I'll have the rap to go with it, the lines, the flow, the standard tired pitch to try to unlock the cookie jar in your pants.

I don't want to break into any cookie jars, woman. I want you to serve them to me on a plate.

You're not ready, but here it comes anyway. BAM! Arched eyebrow comin' atcha.

There's other men with six pack abs and killer cuts around, I know: it's a football team. There's plenty of high-grade man-meat to go around. But that arched eyebrow? There's cloak and dagger in that, lady. There's private jets and shadowy affairs in there. There's a tiger in a business suit driving a Maybach 140 miles an hour on freeway on the way to an assasination attempt in that arched eyebrow.

You know what else is in that eyebrow? A man unafraid to show up buck naked outside your door with a bottle of Andre Cold Duck, some discounted day-old supermarket sushi, and his trusty Sidekick in that arched eyebrow.

Feel it. Don't be afraid. It might kill, but like a vampire's bite, it definitely won't hurt.

[/sentfrommysidekickoutsideyourdoornakedopenplzitsgettingchillyplzhurrythx]