So, I asked a friend what to write about today, and she took the cliched route and said I should write about how I hate being a waitress. Sorta difficult for me, because I'm not a waitress, but I think I can do it. How do I hate being a waitress? With every bone in my body. By storing a rage deep down my skin that's ready to just burst at any moment. I keep it to myself, as I walk down the aisle with my feminine gait, nodding politely every time some trucker slaps my behind or says "hey foxy mama, you need a foxy papa tonight?" Then I go home, draw a face with the words "foxy papa" on a piece of paper, staple it to my 260 lb. punching bag, and go to town. I eventually tire and collapse right there on the floor, a sweaty mass of blood, hatred, eggs and toast. That's how I hate being a waitress. Also, I'm a dude, so the female modifier's something of a tease. But WHY do I hate being a waitress? That's not the question. That's a story for another day...
Speaking of Italians, here's a great video written by Ryan Perez!
The Olive Garden
The Cagematch has moved! - The Cagematch blog has officially moved to Tumblr. So please check us out at www.ucbcagematch.tumblr.com "ARE YOU READY?"
6 years ago