helmet days.

Dear Sticky Bee,

hey, it's so funny you mentioned head wounds. i was just shopping for a helmet.

not, like, an every-day-use helmet like you have so often prescribed for me. just for redneck vehicular use. bulldog is safety-mad at the best of times but he was seriously hyperventilating at thanksgiving as i raced around on the three wheeler, ripe on labatt's 50 and sans helmet. that's three kinds of danger. so he's insisting on a helmet for the spankee before the three wheeler takes a spin this spring.

hmmph.

i protested, surely. i called him a pansy. and a nancy. but he's held firm.

so this is what it has come to. helmet shopping.

but, holy fuck at least i'm not on the bus.

i don't know how/why you do it. clearly, my calls for you to get a car are going unheralded. this is a serious issue and i feel helpless to impact your poor decision making on my own. i feel like maybe we need to have a bus intervention with you. honestly.

hey, maybe you could get around on one of those über-gay motorized scooters.

then we could both wear helmets, together.

wanking off to thoughts of your tits during my lunch break,
spanky millionaire
xoxoxoxox