UPDATE:
I’m sick of apologizing for always being late with my
blog. Let’s call this what it is – I’m
pretty fucking slow with my creativity.
I’m not sure if this will change going forward but it might because my
travels are changing. After 4 months of
touring most of SE Asia I have arrived in Manila to pause from my sojourn and
go back to work. Ironically, I have been
hired back by my old company to help them set up a new office here in
Manila. Yes, I will struggle as I live
the next two months in a 5 Star Hotel and endure its relentless amenities. My body will ache from going to the gym and
using the personal trainers and my belly will bulge in excess from the gourmet
breakfasts that are included. And I will
scowl in rage when I return each day to find my clothes laundered, my dishes
done and my bed made. I’m not sure how I
will cope but it might include one of the two pools, the sauna or the Jacuzzi
at my disposal.
Anyway, enjoy my latest installment entitled: Things I Do
and Don’t Miss About Amerika
*Just an update
that my body does ache from the gym. I
tore my pectoral the other day on the bench press. Hello stationary bike and excessive drinking…
Things I Do Miss
About Amerika : 1
Sweatpants
Holy white Jesus I miss my sweatpants. What I would give to wear some of that fine Canadian
lingerieh. If you didn’t get that
shitty joke it was just intended for you to remember that Canadians are a bunch
of classless seal stuffers. Oh I’m
sorry, did I forget that every Canadian I met traveling was so nice and awesome
and generally what everyone thinks Americans aren’t? Or did I realize that they’re a giant group
of unoriginal penisholes that all have a fucking maple leaf stitched to their
backpack like some god damn medal of honor.
Hey Canada, make syrup, come spend your loonies and shut your voice
holes. Alright, so yeah, sweatpants, I
really miss those things.
Attention fashion world: you can
stop what you’re doing and go ahead and Dereklick your own balls. The world
doesn’t need your shitbrained ideas anymore.
We have oversized cotton pants and they’re awesome. Your new age bullshit is about as useful as
the fat kid on the basketball team. If
it was anything but JV we all know he wouldn’t be playing. So no one needs a cape with wings or whatever
else that anorexic toothpick is dragging down the catwalk. If you want to impress us then take fashion
back to its roots and show us hot models wearing bras and teasing us with their
titties. You’ll make your quota in 3
hours. I guarantee it.
Now, traveling around the world
I was unable to pack my XXL sweatpants and thinking about them now is giving me
a giant fashion boner. I swear the
material they’re using these days is illegal.
I mean, you ever walk into Champs sports on a Saturday intending to pick
up a new jock strap and golf balls and you find yourself drawn to the
sweatpants section? There you are,
hungover and reaking from last night’s whiskey n’ coke beerbong challenge
(naturally, you were the winner) and suddenly you wake up in the store with
your hands thrust into the insides of the latest Nike Swoosh Air Jordan on 50%
sale for only $129 sweatpants? There you are, drool coming down your chin and
splatting your chest in the v-neck part of your shirt where more shirt should
be and a soft groan is emanating from your throat. Don’t tell me that hasn’t happened to you.
Note: for any women who are actually reading this, I’m sure you don’t know what
I’m talking about so just draw a parallel to how you feel when you buy a new
Cuisanart or spoons or some shit. I’m bet
you go apenuts for napkin holders.
Why do I love sweatpants so
much? Well yeah, part of it is
comfort. Every now and then I’ll go
commando in my sweats and hang free. If only
we had some sort of ratio based measurement scale to identify the underlying
construct for the indescribable pleasure of letting freshly showered man balls
collide with sweatpants that were just washed in a gallon of Downy. Now that’s
a science fair project in the making. Now don’t forget kids, construct your hypothesis
and then experiment; not the other way around. No one likes a fucking cheater. Another
is convenience; waking up on a Saturday nothing can erase the toothy grinned
mistake next to you but at least you can rest comfortably once you jump through
the window and run home to your grey Champion sweatpants that won’t judge you. Ahhhhhh….how I desire NCAA sports with beer
and non-judgmental sweatpants. I miss
America.
Traveling has deprived me of such
comforts as I’m forced to wear some bullshit polyester performance blend,
totally removing cotton from my fashion diet. I miss trying to walk up to the
drive thru atTaco Bell at 3:00 am overdressed in open laced sneakers,
sweatpants dragging at my ass and a classic Jansport hoody. And depending on how many 40’s I’ve drank I
might even say I miss the Crunchwrap Supreme they won’t sell me because I’m not
in a car. Even SE Asia can’t beat an
octagon taco for $1.99.
I mean let’s be honest, sweat
pants are essentially one giant pocket to keep your hands warm. No man can resist slipping a hand down the
front if only to perform the routine cock and balls maneuver.
Step One: Grab entire package from right side lifting
balls off right leg.
Step Two: Grab entire package from left side lifting
balls off left leg
Step Three: Grab
shaft removing said shaft from balls.
Step Four: Allow
slight smirk to cross your face.
Total implementation time: 1.4 seconds
So this weekend when you wake up
Sunday morning with some cockbreath and you stumble into your living to watch
football, just do me the honor and make damn sure you’re wearing your
sweatpants. You can explain your bad
breath some other time.
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