Watching your girlfriend sleep is far more touching than watching bums do it.
This song is at the top of my charts currently.
I love a tune that tells a story.
It is one of the few appeals of the music of filthy Steve Hoskins.
Of course, all of his music tells stories about how much better I am than him.
With due cause.
He's from Paradise.
The one in Newfoundland.
Not the one with all of the dead people in it.
Anyway.
I'm paying it forward:
Speaking of false hope, I was at a funeral today.
Y'know, bringing a baby to a funeral is somewhat rude.
Nevermind the screaming it does while the father is trying to 'say a few words.'
Funerals are our way of saying, 'Well...he's dead.'
How could someone have the gall to bring a baby to this occasion?
What's more alive than a baby?
A pregnant baby!
eDit: by '...than watching bums do it,' I mean 'watching bums sleep.'
Not 'watching bums watch my girlfriend sleep.'
Which my girlfriend wisely asked me about afterward.
Though I now sort of wish that I had meant the latter.
There's a third option neither of us considered.
In which 'do it' means 'have sex.'
No comments:
Post a Comment