To be honest, when I found out the patriarchy wasn't about horses, I lost interest anyway.
Somebody grab the Neosporin, we got a sick burn over here!
The nice thing about being a pessimist is that you are always either right, or pleasantly surprised.
Sadly, none of us have been elected to office.
At least it looks like he knows where claws should work...on the post and not the couch! 😂
Or, you bottle it up inside and let it slowly destroy you.
I assume we both know for the same reasons. I'm sorry my dude.
Ah yes, I see the problem. They don't know where their bootstraps are!
My friends, I would like to share a story with you.
August 2023. Afternoon. I am sitting at my desk in my office. The tell tale signs of something brewing begin to make themselves known. After a time, I reluctantly acknowledge that I won't make it another 3 hours until I get home. I trudge downstairs to the less populated floor, as one does. An empty stall appears. I seat myself on the porcelain throne and an epic battle ensues. 15 minutes later the moment of dead arrives. I reach over to the dispenser and proceed to unroll.
Halfway through the standard multi-stage folding process, necessary to create something suitable for use, I pause. Something is different. This can't be right...this is...no, that's impossible. I look closer at the material in my hands. I rub it between thumb and index finger. I stare in disbelief. This is soft, comfortable, 2 ply material! Gods be praised! I proceed to give myself a royal treatment; the cleanest, most wonderful experience! I feel like a king as I wash my hands and return to my desk.
I dare not speak of this to anyone, for fear the mistake will be discovered. Over the next few weeks, I make several returns trips to the same location and am treated to the same royal cleaning. Life is good!
October. I have grown complacent in my comfort over the intervening weeks. One fateful day I make the trip downstairs, now fully expecting to do business in comfort. Post excursion I reach over, my fingers make contact with something akin to sandpaper. My hand freezes and my heart drops. The most wonderful 2 ply material is gone, replaced with the old standard rough, semi transparent tissue that always results in rectal bleeding. I curl over into a sitting fetal position and morn the loss of my comfy companion. Perhaps I shed a single tear, or cry or in pain, the memory is too traumatic to recall clearly now.
Six weeks later. Was it all a dream? Did I imagine the 2 ply material from heaven? I don't think so, but it has not returned. Maybe, against all hope, it will return in the future. Only time will tell.
TL;DR - my office had 2 ply toilet paper for a few weeks and it was the most amazing thing ever.
So you're saying the groom was a big fan? Hmmm...
Now accepting donations of land, buildings, and other forms of real estate!
Can I please donate the real estate this occupies in my brain.