Here I am last week in my wanker-sleeve, oiled-up and hanging out at my loft, waiting for my Filipino house-boy Manuel to fetch me some buttered garden beets.
Manuel’s such a nice little man with his pouty, willing lips and subserviant demeanor. Thank God I’m not gay, or he’d spend every day bent over fishing for urinal cakes in my steam room. Hmmm, I hope he doesn't think I'm gay. But why would he think that?
Anyway, I like to wear these when I fetch the mail or work in the yard, at least until my neighbor Chuck comes out and starts firing buckshot in my direction. He always says he’s gonna blast my “deer snout”, and I’ll tell ya, I have no idea what that means.
I also think this ensemble adds a light, breezy demeanor to the atmosphere when my girlfriend’s parents come over to visit us with their dogs, so I wear them every time.
Boy, those crazy dogs sure like the taste of the fabric in my stocking-sock. I look down and it's just tongues and saliva as far as the eye can see. What, did I wash these in salmon broth?
Anyway, her Dad, a conservative army sergeant, always brings me two avocados and a Mars bar stuffed into an old sweatsock and says “you should like this, it’s right up your alley.”
He’s right, I love avocados and candy. I just don't understand why he has to bring them stuffed tightly into that droopy old sock.
Maybe he just doesn't have a clue about what's proper.