Monday Brain Fart #Whatever by Monkey!
One thing I would not have thought so hard to find in adulthood would be a great pair of jeans – not a good pair of jeans but a great pair of jeans. I found those jeans, once, but now I cannot find their replica. I loved them dearly and held them tightly and squeezed them and called them George but now they would allow my junk to wave in the air if it weren’t for the social convention of wearing underwear. Must I travel all the way to Ching-Ching land myself and whip the underage children so I can get the jeans I want – nay, the jeans I need?
I say, damn! to that, you swines. The Internet exists for a very good reason and if I cannot get what I want by poking my finger against a touch screen then I shall huff and I shall puff and – oh, I could do with new boots. Footwear is important. Spend money where you spend time, they say. Bed, footwear, clothes, car, the basement dungeon. I hear you, society – the ever present knarky voice of, ‘they say’ – always over the shoulder, with anecdotal advice – free delivery helps. I don’t like to pay for those postal minions. Those fuckers will shoot up the town as soon as look at you unless of course you live in a country with rational gun control laws – they took our guns!
Anyhow, fuck you jean makers. Kids are for fucking not for making jeans – this is why I cannot find the jeans I need. Just send over the kids and let them do what they were destined to do – cry over hard cock and swallow down that salty gravy.
Choke! You little fucker, choke! That’s right… Now gulp! Don’t look at me like that or I will slap you again.
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