I bought some new socks and underwear the other day. Call it my Christmas present, since that's about all I got.
For some reason, the socks - even after washing - smell like a mixture of hydraulic fluid and insecticide. Maybe they spray them with exactly those two things to insure they don't spread the plague, when they ship them from some third world country.
The underwear is comfortable, but damned if I can figure out which side is supposed to be out. Thank goodness nobody sees them. I'd be embarrassed if I was walking in Walmart and the other customers started pointing and exclaiming: "Look at that idiot. His underwear is inside out!"
Anyway, I feel a little behind the times this evening. Between tweeting, twerking and some other things that start with a "t", I haven't got a clue.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.