On shopping and cod pieces

So I went shopping today for new pants, something that I hate because I’m between Men and Boys in size (I wear a 32-30 pant size.) While I was there, I decided that I wanted a new belt and more underwear. Yeah, yeah, thrilling stuff, I know. You are riveted to your computer monitor, breath held until I bestow my next turd of wisdom on you. Wait for it…

Really, there wasn’t much to blog about, besides my inability to find a belt in my size, up until I browsed the brief section… first, I couldn’t find the whitey tightys, everything was either boxer-briefs or boxers. It’s like the whitey tighty has become an endangered species (quick, call Greenpeace!) When I found them, they were in the back corner, a place normally reserved for porn in most stores.

And considering what’s on the package, it didn’t surprise me: a decently built guy with a package the size of a U-haul. My gods, he needs a driver’s license just to masturbate. Nobody asks if he’s happy to see them, because there is no doubt. His dick is so big, he has a toll bridge.

(Err, running out of big dick jokes. And Drew Carey’s original.)

“OMG bren, UR GAY! U st4r3 @ d1ck!”

… Meh. Just because I see a mountain, doesn’t mean I want to fuck it. It’d be embarrassing to walk headfirst into a mountain.

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