Mr. BH is all about creating unique butt sculptures for CL lovelies

My meeting this weekend with high officials in Maryland went well. My suite at the 5 Star Holiday Inn Rockville was big enough to practice my pose downs. Later, dinner at an unnamed Councilwoman's palatial estate. Knowing my predilection for eating endangered species and a penchant for pan-gallic chauvinism, she served Terrine de Tigre aux Epinards - Riz Spécial followed by a Plateau de fromages et salade verte. I wore my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt.

Relaxed from a quiet weekend, I sat this morning sipping a glass of breakfast wine and creating my day. I created a trip down to the Verizon store to pick up a replacement charger for my phone which I somehow lost. Anyway, it was chilly this morning so dressed accordingly. Carla Behrle leather pants. Armani flannel shirt with the arms ripped off. The red line from Woodley Park to Farragut North was really crowded, so no charcoal rubbings of my abs this morning. One young lady wanted to caress the buns that can bend iron rebar into origami swan shapes. I told her no problem. Don’t stick your finger between my cheeks, babe, unless you don’t want to keep it. My cheeks are so tight they can turn charcoal briquettes into diamonds. She got off at Dupont Circle and I worked on the novel I am reading.

Me you ask? Eating endangered species. Total fitness and power. Glutes that can bend iron rebar into unique butt sculptures. Replacing lost personal items. Dignity. That is what I am about. And if you’re going to stick your finger in my butt, warn me first. My cheeks are so tight they can make diamonds out of stuff you can buy at the grocery store. I don't want to hurt you.