The BSD's Assorted Musings: On & Off the Runway

Frida Gustavsson. A work of art. This girl works. The BSD could possibly marry this one. Check out this interview here- http://www.models.com/oftheminute/?p=9844. So much to corrupt I wouldn't even want to.

Toni Garrn definitely giving it in this shot. Leather jacket kicks so much ass it should be illegal. Plus- wait for it, wait for it- are those leather fucking boots up to your mid-thighs??? The BSD is rolling around on the ground, toiling in self-restraint, hoping to be able to deal with this crisis before the blood drains from his head and he passes out. Somebody get me the Coors Light Train to bring the icy refreshment of the Rockies up in this bitch.

Leigh. One day I will write you a letter; A letter so well written and emotionally virulent that you will have no choice but to fall deeply in love with the BSD. That day is not today. Today, I will violate myself to the thought of you.

That purple wristband had given her entrance to the Cockpit. That spacey look on her face was given to her by the BSD. So was her nagging limp and that faint itching.

The BSD's "Point Proven": Gingers everywhere. And this dude's jacket is gnarly. I want that.

Good look, Mariacarla. I see those holes in your pants. But there's one hole in those pants I'd really like to see. Slouchy jeans work for me and paired with the plain white T, the BSD reads "Low Maintenance" and therefore, "Approved".

Holy shit, another really hot ginger. (Yeah, there's a HOT - FIREBUSH correlation in there somewhere, but that's the easy way out and if there's one thing the BSD doesn't do it's the easy way out. He likes to make things really hard.)

I gone done did it again. She's signaling the number 2, indicating how many times the BSD will go to the cleaners with her before he passes out in a lump of gin-soaked nudity, writhing contemptfully in self-adulation and inner-congratulation.

Legs legs legs legs legs legs legs, nubile legs with cheeky red socks. If you want the BSD, you little harlot, all you have to do is ask.

The BSD is going to adapt this jacket to a men's bomber. It's so sexy. I can already picture the headlines on Page 6: BSD Spontaneously Combusts at Ice Queen Girlfriend's Apartment Due to Atomic Levels of The Sexy.

Ah baby, relax. It's now the BSD After Dark, darling. Pour yourself a glass of Pernod, slip into something more comfortable, take off your shoes and drink it in. You like what you see? Of course you do. It's the BSD you're looking at, and the view is spectacular. Close your eyes before your head explodes.