jeffprobstswhore - Tumblr blog

[jeffprobstswhore]

ur the cardio to my vascular

dearest Rob of Boston,

He made me cookies... Shouldn’t that mean something? everyone knows cookies are the bakers’ equivalent of a proposal. Is chivalry dead in Boston? Does he just love to lead me on? Maybe he gets off to this type of stuff, and maybe my humiliation is his validation. Although, wouldn’t that mean he’s getting off to me? NO, JEFF STOP. Lisa Ann would kill me if she knew about how much time I spent fantasizing about Boston Rob. Boston Rob and his hat... his cotton polyester blend dirty grey tank top. His shiny bald spots. The way his nipples are so tiny where you sometimes can’t see them. The fact that other players call him a portly chap. Man... He is perfect. His very existence is a menace to my self control. I fear my existence without him is just that, a measly peasantry existence. He probably lives. Stupid ambuh makes him live. He never has to worry about mere existence when he has those shimmering brown orbs. Like... shit, i stare down into them and I just wish I could lick his shit. Wow, a man can dream. I sigh. Ever since that rotton amber took him from me, I didn’t know what to do. She’s a menace. I hate her. Boston Rob... oh how I miss his yearning face. his wistful eyes. his gorgeous accent. i miss him so. we connected, and i even built a giant statue to his head. yet, it still wasn’t enough. i want him. i want him so. i yearn to do tequila shots off his stomach, bare beneath my wandering hands. i yearn to eat pizza, cold beer, mashed potatoes with all the fixins off his chest. people think i always say cmon in guys bc i want the guys to cmon in, but really i just want one guy to come. boston rob, pick me, choose me, love me. Love me and I’ll smother you in love too. Give me the attention I deserve and I swear I’ll make you the happiest man alive.

Always, constantly, never not thinking of you,

Jeff Probst