Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Axe wearers: get ready for Winter Plunderland.


(click ads) In these latest fairytale executions (by BBH London) from the Axe Effect marketing malarkey machine, girlie-smelling young British mooks can look forward to a season of spontaneous snow shags as long as they have an Axe (called Lynx in the UK) "bullet" handy. I wonder, if sprayed directly on your penis, if Axe also prevents cold weather shrinkage (images via)? Previous Axe Effect ads: makes Hillary Clinton want to fuck Obama; makes Venus wants to fuck Mars; makes lingerie model strip; makes a periodic table full of women want to fuck you.

7 Comments:

Blogger John said...

Why is there only one set of footprints?

4:34 PM  
Blogger copyranter said...

Yes, the forensic fucking evidence is suspect.

4:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Looks like the footprints come from opposite directions. A meeting of the "minds" in the middle, so to speak. I'm assuming spontaneous combustion upon orgasm, therefore no "leaving" prints.

4:50 PM  
Anonymous franCo. said...

"Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk."
- Edward Cullen

"Drunk?"
- Bella Swan

I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end — so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn’t make myself be afraid. I couldn’t think of anything, except that he was touching me.

"You’re intoxicated by my very presence."

I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm — like I’d been burned, but didn’t feel the pain of it yet.

I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of him than I already was.

He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

His fingers were ice-cold. But that wasn’t why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.

Her scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. There was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment. In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I’d once been; no trace of the shreds of humanity I’d managed to cloak myself in remained. I was a predator. She was my prey. There was nothing else in the whole world but that truth.

I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance.

He came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest. Listening to my heart.

Bella: We’ll live in Antarctica.
Edward: Penguins. Lovely.

(Thanks to 'Twilight' quotes)

7:18 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sex in the snow = not as fun as it sounds.

I wonder if the guy was wearing those adorable snowflake gloves the whole time...

5:48 PM  
Anonymous Dr. Gilbert Grissom said...

@ John: Not sure what you mean, in both pictures there are 2 sets of footprints.

6:58 PM  
Anonymous Eamon said...

@John (via 2 years in the future)

There is only one set of footprints because that's when Jesus was no longer walking beside the man, but carrying him... to bang the trash out of a slut... in the snow. Resulting in vaginal frostbite, and charges of indecent exposure and solicitation of a prostitute.

3:19 PM  

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