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Goatmoose

What the french, toast?

Sixteen hours ago I’d never heard of this little person. This seems to be because I couldn’t give a sack of skittles less about gymnastics. Today, I know all about her, as two news stories came to attention this morning. Apparently this seventeen year old 4’10″ cute thing is quite the tease, whether she wants to be or not.

This picture isn’t really a story, but hard proof that this girl named Shawn has wiener appeal in the eyes of her dance partner on everyone’s favorite television show. (It’s also quite possible that her partner’s wiener has Tom Bergeron appeal.) This boneriffic picture is from a recent episode where Mark Ballas thought their lindy hop performance was a bit stiff. As the two waited for their score, Ballas clearly wanted to. This was supposed to be a straight & narrow night of television for American viewers, who ended up getting a rise out of the nightly episode when Ballas started pole dancing. Boner.

It’s possible that maybe Ballas’s itty bitty shorts just caught the camera at the wrong angle – maybe he’s just well hung and floppy poppy just happened to be hanging that way at the moment – but I like to agree with everyone that he’s just rocking a hot rod.

But that’s not all! More troubles have been running thick, as if Shawn Johnson hasn’t been having a tough enough time with her stalker that I heard about today as well. Driving through Alabama, bushy bearded and clinically insane would-be-rapist Robert O’Ryan was on his way to meet Johnson and attempt to marry her. He said that he could tell they were destined to have a beautiful relationship together, and he had felt her communicating with him through TV. That’s not verbatim, because I’m too lazy to look up the original quote. But it doesn’t matter – it’s nutso buttso either way. The cop let the mid-30′s icon of lunacy go, because driving through Alabama in the middle of the night, stuttering and badgering on about marrying a 17 year-old gymnast you’ve never met, with a car full of souvenir shit and weapons, is fairly common practice in Alabama and nothing seemed odd about it.

Yikes.

Boner.

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