It's All Buried Under the Shed

"Tequila may make her pants come off but Corona can whisper sweet-nothings that make her blush with interest."

-Me

I'm in a bout of hatred for work. It's gotten a bit heavy due to our needing a lot more people to pull off this shit. Each dock has to have a certain amount of things done or we're not doing enough. This becomes extremely annoying for those of us drenched in sweat and wondering just what 'enough' really entails. Yeah, it's great to hear your boss tell you how great you are but then pull a 360 by telling you that you're a little slow after so many hours. Hey dipshit, let's see you do this for as many hours as you order me to be there.

First of all, I get home a little hyper, something that happens when I get off of work. I know it won't last so that's when I hit the gym. Change, eat a little, and off I go! My early evenings don't see my stop because I also have to walk 5-Pound Phooey or she gives me hell about the lack of time to shoot her mouth off. The need to be dominant must stir within her prior to a walk.

It's weird. The unemployment number rose. We don't have enough workers. Not many businesses I know have enough workers. Why is it that this recession finds businesses needing people? Could it be that said businesses act like assholes during that time of year where money is in desperate need? Oh, remember those times at my old job?

So how did I end up being buck-naked on Sara's couch for over 5 hours? I posed for a painting. This was odd because Sara said she would never paint me. It's kind of like that thing where Seinfield was begging the masseuse to use her hands on him but she just doesn't believe in doing work with her love life. I'm in complete understanding because it all reminds me of how a part of me, no matter how talented in the working out, will not see working in a gym as a good thing.

Balls made a touch down on Sara's couch. Felt weird being like that, removing my clothes for Sara before she painted. Just lil' ol' me and my gigantic balls that gave her a good laugh to see scrunched up on the couch's cushions. Now, I know what those girls who posed for Playboy were talking about. For the first 5 minutes, being naked in a living room was weird but it all went away soon enough. Even the guy mowing the lawn while the windows were open didn't bother me. By jeeves, if the man wants to see my penis, he shall see it!

However, he will never get to see my wiggle it all around like I've been known to do.

Posing sucks. Various body parts soon need blood to run back throughout the veins. Elbow ached. Toes needed flexing. My right bicep tightened at some point. The thing that made it real bad was my cat allergies coming on hard. Somehow, a cat hair ended up in my contact. There was no complaining because posing had to be done to get my face right. While I agree that Sara got it down, my own mother didn't see me in it at all. Yes, she saw the painting because Sara took a picture for me to take with me.

Note: Sara also took a picture of me posing. If you look closely enough, you'll see my gigantic balls scrunched up, looking like they don't want to come out til later. Nocturnal nuts. I got nocturnal nuts on Sunday.

To be honest, it is kind of scary to pose completely nude. What if I giggle? Getting sudden wood wouldn't be a big deal because that'll have Sara stop painting and relieve me of it her way. The thing that made me laugh to myself is wondering whether I left any ball hairs like the cat leaves her hair all over the place everyday. My contact? How the hell did I get a long white hair in there!?!

It all came to a nice conclusion. Sara gave me a bowl of her Rice Krispies (with strawberries) and we watched Mr. And Mrs. Smith for the 4th or 5th time together. Yeah, we love it. That's us Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Sara and I could be spies, ya know? Neither of us believes in living a boring lifestyle. That's what happens when you pair artists with people that are up for anything thanks to seeing things as adventures. Treading dangerous waters with a possible threesome? Sara and I think not.

So, I bid adieu now as I'm off to recover from another long day at work where that dock saw my boots far too often. Sleep is great but knowing I'll have to be back at work for another round has me hating. A wedding in July has me wearing a suit. Sara insists I get one even though I normally go to weddings in the ol' white button down with tie. Gotta look good, yo. Mr. Smith would when forced to visit the Colemans. See the movie to understand what I'm saying. Happy twats all around.