We arose early this morning for the annual examination of the Lords' corporeal wellness, and we are none too pleased. It's not our health. Our hearts beat strong, we get erections of steel, and we fuck like the man from fire mountain. But every encounter with our healthcare system reminds us of the sickening decay that spreads across our land, and plummets us into a mood of general foulness so dense that the light of a thousand suns cannot penetrate its fog. We know that it's several months until Festivus, but we have a lot of problems with you people, and we need to air some grievances. In no particular order:
The Sears store on Main and Wheeler. WTF? No, seriously. W. T. F?? Are Midtown Loopizens lining up to buy Craftsman socket wrenches and Lands' End cargo shorts? Keeping a Sears store open on this piece of prime loop real estate is exactly the kind of management genius that caused our SHLD stock to wither from 200 to 40 in a year. Fuck you Eddie Lampert. We're out.
Potato sack dresses. Ladies, this is not a good look for you. Even the trendy cute ones make us fear the worst. What is she hiding under there? A baby bump? Maybe a puppy. If you want some attention from the Lords, show us what you got and prepare to be judged. If you want us to do the same, just ask. We'll whip it out.
Please shoot us. Lance Armstrong. No explanation required.
Sexting. Keep sending the boob pics, please do, but send them to our email. A new study shows that texting while driving makes us 23 times more likely to have an accident. http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/nation/6550046.html We don't need the distractions, and neither do you.
Beer pong. This is the dumbest drinking game ever conceived. It takes an eternity, no one gets drunk, and the rules are more complicated than Hammurabi's Code. We'll play flip cup or liar's dice, but get your weak shit out of our bars.
Neighbors. We turn the music down after midnight. We remind our guests in the grotto to soften their voices. We even stopped playing Rock Band in the driveway. In other words, we try. But the Lords were born to rock, sometimes well into the night. If you can't handle a little revelry late on a Friday, move to the Woodlands. We hear it's nice out there, but we wouldn't know. We live ITL.
5 comments:
Some women in the Loop need to potato-sack their face too. The playing field definitely ain't even so I agree, so fuck any product that attempts to accomplish that.
but if one knows in advance what's under the sack and one likes what's under the sack then one would like the sack for its ease of access and a only takes a few joules of energy to remove.
I'm a legs and ass man, so let's keep it high and tight ladies. Potato sack dresses were clearly a concoction made to conceal BFI amounts of cellulite. Somehow hot chicks got sucked into the trend.
at least you're smart enough to know that Lance Armstrong is a jackass
Sack dresses are uggo. Mediocre women want hot women to wear em, so they lie and say the sacks are cute. Sack dresses remind me of the Rush song where trees are all made equal by hatchet axe and saw. Some of the hotter chicks will speak truth to power about sack dresses b/c they dont want the chubbies to fool us. An exception: super short sack dress. If i can spy a little butt cheek under the hem, bascially that's just a loose shirt with no pants - a classic look which never goes out.
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