A close associate once diagnosed me as making friends easily, but tremendous trouble keeping friends. I worry this would be the case if I befriended Julianne Hough, specifically, her worked out hard booty. Oh, sure, we would become tight rather immediately. Me and her asstastic would hit the clubs, drink til dawn, get ourselves in a boatload of trouble, watch the sunrise and promise to have each other’s backs til the end of time.
But, eventually, my hands would start wandering over her butt’s fine curves, there’d be recrimination, cautions, an occasional slap to my jowls, and our friendship would be strained. Eventually, I’d see her booty out at a concert we were supposed to go to together, but with somebody else. There’s be too much hurt, and the friendship would be over, and I’d have to admit that maybe it really is impossible for men and women’s asses to be strictly friends. But, oh, those 48 hours of being tight with her butt. It’d all be worthwhile.