Fish Slap
If New Kids on the Bag here looks familiar, he should. This old friend, and by friend I mean staple-gun to my uvula, appeared previously on the site last summer. I’d track him down to figure out just which pic he appeared in, but the image of his douched out chin has blurred all higher function and forced me to slap myself repeatedly with a dead fish. How the dead fish got into my pajamas, I’ll never find out.
Note stylish unearned dog tags and 10 degree hat tilt, two classic signifiers of extreme douchebaggery. Not that you needed me to point that out. I can hear your screams and dead fish slapping from miles away.
Hmm. “Dead fish slapping.” That sounds like a vaguely euphemistic something or other…. Oh yeah, that’s it. My ex-girlfriend. Probably needs no further elaboration. Moving on…
She’s got that perky 3rd grade schoolteacher thing working. The type whose skirt you used to run over and look under while she was writing on the blackboard. Or was that just me? I’m sorry, Mrs. Russell. I was only nine. But your granny panties scarred me for life.
