So you discovered boxers.
And you think it drives me mad with desire. Every time I see that Jockey band and the dirty Madras print peering out of the back of your jeans, I’ll go hysterical, tear my clothes off and fling myself at you.
Wake up. And smell the diesel fuel.
What are you? Pimply and fifteen? Because chances are unless you’re Mark Wahlberg, it’s never gonna happen.
When I see that Jockey band all I’m thinking is ‘gross, when was this thing ever washed.’
And the fact that your jeans are so low or loose does not necessarily mean you are slim. Or a hip hop artist. It means you’re a retard who obviously can’t go out and buy yourself a belt. Or no woman considers you good enough to sit you down, and tell you where you’d get one.
Scary. Almost as scary as that frayed band sticking out of your jeans.
So here’s some advice: keep those boxers out of sight. And pray really hard. That someday you’ll find someone who doesn’t mind seeing them.
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