Kristoff told me that the last time he was on a roadtrip, he stopped by a gas station that was selling more than petrol, powerade, and chili dogs. At this inconspicuous shanty out in the middle of the marshlands, along with your hohos and coke, you can purchase the finest in smut mags.

Proudly displayed to the right of the cashier station, in the very location where you’d expect to find the more demure reads - i.e. The People, US Weekly, Rollingstone and Women’s day magazines - is a prodigious pile of porn.

We’re talking about a three-tiered display that’s roughly five feet wide. By my estimate, this contraption can hold 49 separate and distinct chronicles of the Hustler, Playboy and Juggs Monthly varieties.

In short - this is a pubescent boy’s dream.

Oh, and the name of said service station is so appropriately (and ironically) called: The Handimart.

Marinate on that one folks.

Posted in Sexiness