Fucking dressing gowns. I moved house last week and the dressing gown that looked like it belonged to a crook’s nanny, that had spent the last couple of years hidden away in a nook’s cranny, suddenly reappeared. Before I knew it, the fucking fluffy cunt was draped all over me and I was just like every other moron in the world. I bet you’re sitting thinking “cool story, bro” but I hate dressing gowns. I despise how they just hang there and tempt you to wear them, with their false promises of being comfortable, and delusions of grandeur. So I’m going to tell you in eight reasonably short points (whilst you’re sitting there fondling your genitals through your silk robe), why dressing gowns are for cunts.
1) Dressing gowns are fucking pointless. They’re the thin membrane between achieving something and doing nothing. If I want to do nothing, I’ll wear nothing, if I want to do something, I’ll wear something. Dressing gowns are a clothing purgatory, where you’re not sure what you want to do, kinda like a teenage bisexual but a bit more confused and worthless. If you’re going to get dressed, then get dressed into some real clothes. Like skinny jeans, a gilet, and flip-flops.That’s cool, right?
2) We’re all perverts in some way or an other, but I (like all other teenage boys) loved wearing my mother’s brassieres whilst fucking the hoover, but I stopped doing that after a while. All adult males are genuinely thinking, “I’m just one step away from getting my dick wet in this gown.” One tug of the cord, and then it’ll be Spaff O’Clock. There’s nothing wrong with being perverted, hell I’m typing one handed at this very moment BUT there’s something wrong with hiding behind a dressing gown. If you’re a pervert, then please feel free to put Fruit Pastilles under your foreskin and show the world. Just don’t put a dressing gown on after.
3) Look cunt, you’re wearing a dressing gown because you’ve probably just had terrible sex with someone who’s going to dump you soon for someone with a better dressing gown. You are not Rocky, you’re not a pro-boxer, you’re a dickbag in what’s essentially a massive dress. Take that dressing gown hood down, you’re not mad urban or a ‘playa’ – you’re a fvcking solicitor.
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