Shockingly, my mother hath purchased one UtiliKilt for mineself on the occasion of mineselfs birthday. Said UK is to be worn frequently in pursuit of what am I told are called "women". This is foreign to me, but the damn thing is actually quite comfortable and fits well.
One word: Freeballin'
You. Are. So. Jealous.
My bits and pieces (all nine of them) have never been this free. It's like cross dressing without dressing like a woman. And I get to wear my steel-toed boots which make an extremely satisfying thumping noise whilst walking.
The website, utilikilts.com, has a guestbook where every third guy claims female attention generated by this thing is overwhelming. Ladies: thoughts?
Now, I'm a little guy and not intimidating, except to small rodents and children, and might get my ass kicked wearing a skirt in public (see November's Antioch bar adventure). Gentlemen: thoughts?
Friday or Saturday I will be bravely go where I have never gone before: into public, probably mildly if not heavily intoxicated (OK, I've done both of those before), wearing a kilt. Expect an interesting Monday morning post.
(Notice how the subject has shifted emphasis from the "comma [,]" addressed in earlier posting to "colon [:]". Is this some new sort of rectal fixation, or simply an attempt to shift focus away from the impending "comma" epidemic? Only time will tell.)
Thursday, December 7, 2006
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2 comments:
I have found two pieces of beauty.
First and foremost:
The 86 Rules of Boozing
"69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours."
And second:
A Gamer's Manifesto
"Are you telling me that Congress can hold hearings about steroids in baseball, but they can't do anything about jumping puzzles in first-person games? YOU CAN'T SEE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FEET. IT DOESN'T WORK."
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