"I'll just pop down to the shop's wearing nothing else but my ball huggers. That protuding bulge is not my cock. I have a herniated scrotum. Now stop staring at me young man!"
It happen's every summer. Middle aged men doing their shopping whilst wearing their speedos. I have a policy, unless you are an olympic athlete, then you shouldn't wear dick stickers. Some men get to an age where they forget about their appearance and feel obliged to indulge in such activities. Yes, it must be quite liberating... but it does go against my utopian ideal! Just like camel toes! I find that I stare at camel toes too. It's like looking at the sun... you want to see what's there but you know it's going to burn your eyes out.
I got a new haircut. I like to react against the current trend of football stars sporting Toni & Guy designer mullets. Since sexual ambiguity is back in town, I've decided that new look will be gay-boover-boy... remember Bros? Yes like that, only with more attidude. The benefits: free drinks from older men in gay clubs and little old ladies telling me that I look like their long dead war-hero boyfriend.
I recieved my friends halloween costumes in the mail. I bet they were on drugs when they decided to mail it. One costume was of Saddam Hussan as the devil and the other was Uma's overdose character in Pulp Fiction... complete with fake blood and syringe! Love it!
The urge to smoke over writing a journel entry is getting stronger by the second. I'm going to have to go down to he shops to buy some fags. The lady that works in the shop can't understand engrish very well... but when it comes to money... boy is she switched on!
Seeya!
Song: The Pogues - "The band played Waltzing Matilda"
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