I bought a house site unseen off the internet, it was cheap [foreclosure] and I wanted a change so I made them an even lower offer and they accepted.   I know it’s a weird thing to do [not surprising for me, hell have you read this blog at all?] but I was busy trying not to go postal [Since I was working at the post office at the time running a freight contract] .. .

This is not the point though, So I get this house and move in, got a big dumpster and cleaned mad shit out. We painted and it’s coming along ok.. . Beats paying rent or a mortgage.

Anyway I was moving firewood into the basement and came across some closet that I had overlooked.. I never really go in the basement. So I pull some of this crap off the shelf and I’m talking to my gf while I’m doing it, not looking at the junk I am moving really.

Then I feel plastic and as my eyes meet this crumpled semblance of chubby lust in all her deflated glory I yell “oh fuck, oh fuck no fucking way” as I run up to wash my hands in isopropyl alcohol.

The pic after is the gear I recommend if you ever have a similar situation [not likely I know], the beer will help with your trauma [it did for me].

I think I will re-gift this vintage heirloom, merry xmas dad you fucking lowlife.

Is this yours?

Is this yours?

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