I Feel Pretty

Sunday night a cute little gal came into the store to buy some gas. She was a little thick but not too thick and she was pretty as a speckled pup. Plus she had a great rack which was displayed very nicely. I watched her walk back to her car and it was all good. A few minutes later she came back in for a Black & Mild (I'm guessing she's a pot head) I checked her I.D. and she was all of 22 years old. I watched her walk away again and she still looked fanfuckingtastic from behind. Another minute or two and she was standing in front of me again buying a soda. Yet again I suffered the pain of watching her walk away. I don't know what she bought on her 4th trip into the store. All I remember her saying is "Do you want my phone number?" Hell yes I wanted her number. I wanted to tie her up and do dirty things to her until she learned to love me like all the others have. I wanted to coat her in chocolate sauce and lick it all off. I wanted to make her call me Daddy. I wanted to ruin her for all other men. But all I said was "I'm married." She turned and walked out of my store and my life. She is however been stroke material for the last couple of days.

Oh and before I forget.

THAT'S RIGHT MOTHER FUCKERS. I STILL GOT IT. I'M THE MOTHER FUCKING MAN. SHE WANTED A BIG OL' SLICE OF TRASHMAN PIE. THIS OLD MAN CAN STILL REEL THEM IN. I AM THE FUCKING SHIT. YOU LADIES ALL KNOW YOU WANT SOME. But I'm married.

Keep on keeping on.