Get Off Me

I'm serious...get the fuck off me, you douche nozzle. Don't hover so close that I can tell which brand of mayonnaise you used in the egg salad you had for lunch 3 weeks ago. There is no reason for you to be thismotherfuckingclose to my personal space. It wouldn't matter if it was a balmy 71 degrees out, I still wouldn't want you all up on me. However, the fact that it is over 100 degrees outside only solidifies my stance that you don't need to be directly on both my person and my last goddamned nerve. I am certain that my elbow room is guaranteed somewhere in the Bill of Rights of this fine nation. And if you just abso-fucking-lutely insist on getting in my no fly zone, don't be surprised when I let out a yelp and Hong Kong Phooey your monkey ass into oblivion. It's not like I didn't warn you.

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5 comments:

Samsmama said...

Geez, all you had to do was ask me to back up a bit. Sorry.

Kari said...

I was talking about everyone but you, sugar. You can be all up on me anytime you'd like.

(I meant that in the non-creepiest way possible.)

spectacle319 said...

"Hong Kong Phooey your monkey ass"

you are like Faulkner with bigger tits! I love love love love love you!

Kari said...

I don't know, sister, the word on the street was Faulkner had quite an impressive rack.

Speaking of my glorious and low slung mammaries, did I tell you I earned my propers on Bourbon Street the first night I was in N'awlins? I whipped out a 40 year old titty and got pelted with cheap beads. I'm such a classy bitch.

spectacle319 said...

You are classy with a K my friend, K for Klassy and K for Kari, and Kite, and Kirsch, and Kitten, and Kokomo (The city in Indiana, not the insipid Beach Boys song that I now have stuck in my head :()