Mar 312010
I really need to get a webcam so I can get in on the whole chatroulette thing before it gets all boring and corporate. I want to find out how many people will believe me when I tell them I’m Stephen Hawking’s estranged kid brother. Or perhaps I can acquire a minor degree of fame as “that guy” on chatroulette–the one with the tube in his neck who just sits there reciting dirty limericks. Or maybe I’ll just start screaming for help and beg them to call the police. The possibilities are endless.
My husband does chartoulette wearing no shirt and a luchador mask. When he comes across guys, uh, pleasuring themselves, he like to stare at them and make them uncomfortable. I may have married a freak.