At the risk of sounding like a cantakerous older person, I hate young whippersnappers.
Some insolent young slip of a boy tried to steal my spot on the Megahole's illustrious fashion couch in the early hours of Sunday morning then dared sass me when I told him to move it or lose it.
Yes, that's right, he implied that I am OLD.
UM HELLO, I MIGHT BE OLD BUT THAT ALSO MEANS THAT I'VE GOT A DECADE'S WORTH OF MUSCLES ON YOU, I CAN KICK YO SCRAWNY ASS FLABBY DOUGH BOY!!!
And I will!
It has dawned on me that I may be getting too old to galavant around the countryside trying to pick up young men. Maybe it's time for me to settle down in suburban bliss with Bad Smell (in my advancing age I probably can't do much better) and start procreating.
OR NOT!!!!!
If Bad Smell and I procreated, between us we'd pass on enough addictions to last the poor child for this life and the next.
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