Mom-I Just Kissed A Carp!

Nothing unusual here, right? Just three nut-popping blonds posing with a wax figure of Hugh Hefner at a museum. Happens all the time.

Bloody fucking hell, did you see that? Wax figure Hef just pitched a tent in his trousers!

Run girls, run, THAT FUCKING THING IS ALIVE!

Hurry! He's going to try to stick that thing in one of you! (WTF? Of all the guys you think would have worn out hips by now.) Whichever one of you he catches first has to play a game of "Free Rent Wrinkle Follies".

I mean, I know the other three girls have left and might be available (Holly & Cris? 6 months, tops) but I don't think I could touch one of those post wax figure Hef chicks unless she got scrubbed down with a wire hanger and had several visits from a professional fumigator. Just look at him. I don't even want any fucking sardines on my next pizza!

And I love sardines. Almost as much as I could have loved Holly Madison if she hadn't let Hef slide around on her until he hit what he thought was the right spot. Neither will touch a pizza of mine again. I have my standards.

Oh, it's also true that if you chop Hef's Viagra dick off he'll run around the yard humping for a few minutes before he dies.