H
Hojak
Guest
It's pretty easy to call the ladies out on this one, but I've been waiting for one of them to turn the tables on this one for some time. They didn't, so I will.
And don't go on acting like you guys don't reek of ass after a hard day's work, either. Whether it's construction or even an office job, nut sweat is a factor. So is hygiene. Hell, so is whether or not you've changed your undies in the last week. Some of you don't either, don't even lie. I bet half of you are b-teaming it as you read this.
There was this one time where I came home when I was working construction. I had my shirt off, I was rippled and muscled and shit, and Princess was waiting at home for me. Of course, she sees my rippled muscled man body, and she wants some. Who can blame her, right? Only problem is that I'm reeking of unholy hell and I'd just put in 10 hours on a tile job, so there wasn't a thread on my body that wasn't either covered in grout, lime or cement. Of course, she didn't know better, so she sees me & the pursuit is on. She takes me into the room, corners me, slams the door behind me, and begins to venture downward. At this point I'm thinking "ah fuck, she REEEAAALLY doesn't wanna be down there".... but at the same time, she kinda wanted to, and I'm no one to refuse favors of this nature when they're offered. I could be freshly out of playing in a mid-july sidewalk shitpile, then run for 10 miles after drinking lots of really nasty alcohol that'll sweat out and make me taste even more gross, and I'd still let a chick head south for the winter if she so desired. Needless to say, Princess realized the err of her ways within milliseconds of first contact, and I don't think she'll ever repeat the mistake again. To say she had to venture through B-team undies would be an understatement.... these fuckers were like 6th string on-call undies. They didn't even show up to the game.
And don't go on acting like you guys don't reek of ass after a hard day's work, either. Whether it's construction or even an office job, nut sweat is a factor. So is hygiene. Hell, so is whether or not you've changed your undies in the last week. Some of you don't either, don't even lie. I bet half of you are b-teaming it as you read this.
There was this one time where I came home when I was working construction. I had my shirt off, I was rippled and muscled and shit, and Princess was waiting at home for me. Of course, she sees my rippled muscled man body, and she wants some. Who can blame her, right? Only problem is that I'm reeking of unholy hell and I'd just put in 10 hours on a tile job, so there wasn't a thread on my body that wasn't either covered in grout, lime or cement. Of course, she didn't know better, so she sees me & the pursuit is on. She takes me into the room, corners me, slams the door behind me, and begins to venture downward. At this point I'm thinking "ah fuck, she REEEAAALLY doesn't wanna be down there".... but at the same time, she kinda wanted to, and I'm no one to refuse favors of this nature when they're offered. I could be freshly out of playing in a mid-july sidewalk shitpile, then run for 10 miles after drinking lots of really nasty alcohol that'll sweat out and make me taste even more gross, and I'd still let a chick head south for the winter if she so desired. Needless to say, Princess realized the err of her ways within milliseconds of first contact, and I don't think she'll ever repeat the mistake again. To say she had to venture through B-team undies would be an understatement.... these fuckers were like 6th string on-call undies. They didn't even show up to the game.
