ripped pants

I have a simple solution to my ripped pants abused delicate wool fashionable dress pants made to look like golf knickers and abused by NYC bicycle feeding hungry New Yorquiños deliveries. It was a funny moment at cramped Target Herald Square self checkout when the customer next to me revealed discretely the rip in my pants. "Are you gay? I asked and "yes". was his answer. Funny moment and Alex in my barrio repaired the pants I’m wearing now. Five decades of regular bicycle riding, and I never thought of abuse to my pants only focused on the abuse of my ass. Whala an ahaa moment . . delivered by an ebay seller this week two pairs of satin PJ shorts. Dear kind readers: Please consider my visualization exercise. Consider the abuse to a lighted cigarette when a smoker rubs it out between his or her shoe and concrete. Sincerely, Tom Doody. The cigarette is extinguished and experiences catastrophic failure. The weight of the smoker’s body and the grinding motion of two counter-moving surfaces extinguishes and destroyed the cigarette. I finally considered my HMI interface from the perspective of my pants with my ass secondary.

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
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