A few weeks ago (on a Monday, funnily enough), I woke up with this unnatural ability to be able to hear a fly landing on a dog turd half a mile away. So, I figured, I had either developed super powers overnight, or I had one HELL of a headache. And since, you know, I don’t wear my underwear on the outside, it was definitely the latter.
Anyway, I digress.
I took a few *cough* pills and sat in the shower (yeah, I sit in the shower sometimes, don’t judge me). Then, I got dressed for work, put on the darkest sunglasses I could find and zombie walked my way to the car. It took me a whole five minutes to work out why I couldn’t see out my windscreen, cos hey? what’s a few more black dots right? Until I realised they weren’t dots they were rectangles, and not black at all but full colour pictures of naked women.
I am not making this shit up. I got out the car and pulled two well known nudie mags from under my windshield wipers. I looked around.
It was like I had woken up in heaven, IF I was actually a horny teenage boy. Which I am not. Surrounding me, on poles and fences and cars were centrefolds plastered as far as the eye could see. Well, as far as my eyes could see, I had a headache remember? There were lots of them. Let’s leave it at that.
So, I am not really sure exactly what happened in my street the night before, but I am pretty sure that it has something to do with my neighbours. You know, anyone who plays ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ 7 times in a row is totally headed for a breakdown of some kind. Distributing porn mags is a sign of a breakdown right?
When I got to work, and told them naked women made me late, at first they didn’t believe me. But apparently the magazines were enough to persuade them. Or bribe them….