Why is it the one day out of the week I feel super clothes-tastic about what I’m wearing (white polo shirt, funky green plaid shorts, glow in the dark glass pig and leather necklace) and within an hour of stepping out the door I manage to get a tea stain the size of a loonie dead square centre on my chest?
Je suis à accidents enclins et un slob.
5 thoughts on “Why Must I Destroy The Things I White?”
cb: you’ll note I said “chest” in the post but the stain in the picture is clearly on my beach ball of a stomach.
Geesh! You and my mother! But my mother has an excuse because her enormous rack of bewbies catches everything.
that’s what you get for drinking an inferior beverage. the coffee gods are punishing you.
Or get the lash.
You should take a pen and write, “Cum Stain” and wear it out to a leather bar. You could start a trend 😛