I mean, it's not like I actually want to have sex with any underage girls or anything, that's just disgusting. I just like to imagine them naked and masturbate to the mental images.
Oh, you certainly CAN'T be talkin' to me like THAT.
I can name a time and place, but certainly you wouldn't survive the encounter:
Boston, Masachusetts. Kendall Square. 10/17/2008, a Friday. 630pm. I'll be the guy with the dull-brown leather jacket with the ruby-red cowboy hat, standing clearly in the square. I'll be ready to take you fuckin' DOWN, loser boi. The mere sight of my massive manliness would make you literally shit your pants ... so I'll be wearing one of those nose-plugs that divers use, to stop myself from smelling the spilled production of your festering colon.