On my drive home today, I saw the cutest little 300-yr old man jogging at the pace of a drugged snail. He was wearing what appeared to be a chalk white pair his wife's old pantyhose that he mistook for some of his leggings or perhaps thermal underwear. I was certain they were pantyhose and not running garb because of the wilted leghair that you could clearly see mashed against his knobby knees. I just wanted to scoop him up, take him to IHOP and let him gum at a banana split.
With any luck, I'll have my very own one of those in about 62 years.
Moving Forward vs. Moving On
2 months ago