Not My Problem
Sometimes my wife gets upset with me because instead of joining her in bed, I choose to fag out in the office listening to the Black Eyed Peas and playing Bejeweled 2 Deluxe. Eat a dick for judging me, I also own Fergie’s The Dutchess. I could play it off, like, “Oh, I actually meant to grab John Fogerty’s Greatest Hits, snagged Fergie on accident”, but that’s probably even more queer. You know what, fuck you. It’s not my insecurity that led me on this tangent. I don’t have to explain my shitty musical tastes to you. What the fuck does it matter? The background music to my meat beat fest 2009 is none of your goddamn business. Bejeweled? Like I some kind of fucking twinkle toes? Who cares? I’m looking at Dutch porn.
Anyways, so sometimes she gets mad and starts yelling at me from across the house. Just stupid, nagging, Kate Gosselin-type shit ordering me to bed. Like, what, we’re going to fucking snuggle or something? I already gave her more than enough penis. She should be sleeping and not interrupting my sexual perversions.
Come to bed? Not happening. Why? Because at the 1:52 mark this chick eats a turd and I’m going to watch it for the seventh time.
Boom boom pow, motherfuckers.
