Filner Plays with Weiner


Seems the naughty New York mayoral candidate, also known as Carlos Danger, and the San Diego mayor, also known as Gropalottapuss, have been having a little east coast, west coast thing. Both claim they’ve done little wrong, and expect to maintain unwavering support. Recently, one of the two geniuses left his phone behind at a Starbucks, and transcripts of numerous phone text conversations were captured.

Grope: “Wassup, Weinski?”

Carlos: “You must refer to me as Carlos. Weinski is too obvious.”

Grope: “Will do.”

Carlos: “I just took a pic of my my greased-up boner and sent it to an intern. Told her I was going to paintbrush her cheeks with it.”

Grope: “Nice! You’re a fucking master. I just gave my intern a noogie, and then stuck my tongue in her ear.”

Carlos: “Wife’s fucking pissed at me. Gonna have to plow her deep tonight to shut her up.”

Grope: “Dude, get single. Wives suck. It’s a fucking pussy parade for famous guys like us.”

Carlos: “Got any prime hole out there you can hook me up with?”

Grope: “Hell, yes! Come on out. You should see the cum puddle I left on Wonder Woman’s cape last week. Fucking epic.”

Carlos: “Oh, shit, Comic Con. Missed it. Damn. I beat off on a baby changing table in a Bennigan’s ladies room last week.”

Grope: “Not bad. Any pics.”

Carlos: “Nah. I tried, but couldn’t get the damn flash to work. Blurry as shit. Say, you got any boner candy?”

Grope: “Dude, I’m ten minutes from the border. What do you think? I have a Costco-sized jar of blue steel, motherfucker.”

Carlos: “Sweet! You should see this skank I plowed during lunch. Face like a Bassett Hound, but, Jesus, can she suck a pole.”

Grope: “I’ll Fedex you some.”

Carlos: “Cool. You da man. Anything new on the lawsuit?”

Grope: “These fucking chicks out here keep ratting on me. Piss me off. Allred is taking the cases because I refused to bang her. Christ, I’m not an animal.”

Carlos: “Shit, I’d give her a shot. She’d be Allpurple after I got done beating the pussy snot out of her with my cougar-seeking love missile.”

Grope: “You can have her.”

Carlos: “Wait a minute. Didn’t you fist fuck that Frye chick? She’s not exactly Miss Universe.”

Grope: “Shut up, dickhead. I needed a slump-breaker, and I was totally baked on this gnarly medicinal-grade shit.”

Carlos: “I keep telling you, dude: You need to pass on the lookers and go directly for the low-light ladies. They work harder, and usually keep their mouths shut … except for when they’re inhaling cock. LOL”

Grope: “I know. I can’t help it. Hot chicks dig the way my meaty nose bulb bounces off their clits. I can work it over like Tyson on a speed bag. Had the last one squirt so hard, she knocked a crown loose.”

Carlos: “You are my fucking hero. Hey, college starts in a month or so. Get your ass out here. We’ll slay some coeds with our swords of sexual bliss.”

Grope: “Sign me up. I gotta go, man. Fucking lawyers.”

Carlos: “Same here, bro. Hang in there. Don’t give up the good fight. It’s bros against hos.”

Grope: “Word.”

Eliot Spitzer: “Hey, what are you guys up to?”

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Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.