Monday, June 1, 2015

wit a gak that's pointed at yo ass

I am too lazy to make coffee this morning so I am going to try this tea shite. If it sucks, I am going do some British shaming today.

One day closer to the NFL season. That's my mantra today.

I don't watch Indy racing often (it's the homeless man's Formula One), but I did catch yesterday's race in Detroit. Seeing Juan Pablo Montoya run out of gas on the last lap and then walk down the track looking so sad made it all worth it.

This is funnier the JPM, but you get the idea. 
Lucy just walked in here, put her head on my lap, looked up at me as if to say I brought you something, mister! Farted, then walked out.

How come you never give me things?

I was a latch key kid. When I was in first grade I was walking home when my body decided I had to poo. Unfortunately, I had forgotten my key and had to wait outside until someone got home. By then it was too late. So I hid down in the bushes, took off my soiled undies and went commando.

I would love to tell you this as a story about a young boy finding it liberating to run around sans undies, but that would not be my story. No, instead, this is a story about an animal dragging my soiled undies out of the bushes a couple of days later and my dad finding them destroyed and full of shit.

I got my ass whupped. Not for shitting myself, but for throwing away perfectly good underwear. We aren't made of money, goddammit.

Tea was a cute idea. No wonder you guys got your asses handed to you by a bunch of farmers back in the 18th century.

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