Y'know, it's nice having this resort nearby. For instance, when I get tired of eating 100% organic food -- by which I mean, "anything that can't outrun me" -- I can always wait until everybody is asleep; scale the outside of the building like it's a big, craggy rock; smash my way through the plasti-glass windows; and raid their honor bars. And then I might follow that up with some skinnydippin' in the resort pool. And sure, the next morning everybody's all pissed-off about how their food is missing, and all the rich people's bodyguards are fighting with the hotel manager's bodyguards, and there's an unaccountable mass of honey-brown "back hair" keeping all the swimmers at bay, but I just peer at their dumb clothes-wearing bodies through the foliage and I laugh my fucking head off!
Well, I'd better search through my pre-loaded comics panels on my hand-held interbloggamunicator, to find something suitable for blogging... hmm... nope. Nope. Maybe. Nope. Oh, that's filthy! I'll look at that one again, later. Nope. Ah! Here we go!
Please, don't touch the lesbians without permission, darling. Or else they'll cut you.
Or maybe I'm mistaken, and it's actually that one kid from "Million Dollar Listing." (Or as I like to call it, "Million Dollar Bowlcut.")