Well passionate love if you consider football my third love
behind the human portion of the Little Mermaid and the girl from that one Moto
Razor commercial with the smile. Now those of you who know me (all six of you),
know that I waste not an opportunity to make fun of the practice of men having
to protect their nipples whilst running a marathon like applying butter or
covering them with band aids or something. I believe women do not need to do
the same due to the advances in sports bra technology (do not quote me on that.
That is based purely on conjecture. I haven’t really spoken to a woman about
that because I am shy.) It’s funny, that of all the things that could happen
with running these distances the nipples are the ones that are guaranteed to
break. I would like to take this moment to apologize to all the gentlerunners
(especially my uncle at whom a lot of these jokes were aimed at behind his
back) for all the silly jokes I made at their expense.
It hurts a lot, nipple burn. I was playing football in the
rain the other day and my t shirt was soaked and a curious thing happened as I
was taking a lovely hot shower later; the forward most points on my body,
most notably my right breasticle seemed to build up an internal churning manifesting
itself at this one dime sized point on my body at which point it burst through
like a laser searing my delicate little niplet(s) causing me to hop about ooh-ing
and aah-ing. In fact I was unaware that I had these things until the great
conflagration. Of course as per standard practice, I applied copious amounts of
Vaseline to soothe my soul and assuage this incredibly debilitating injury.
I was terribly inconvenienced in the days following this
incident; think about it, I had to be shirtless the whole week so as to not
aggravate them and couldn’t go out and this was hard because I am such an
extrovert, I couldn’t sleep on my stomach (which is the best way) and had to be
curled up like a dirty fetus, I couldn’t chest bump any of my homies which is
one of my favorite things to do and most unfortunately I could not take part in
the bi-weekly neighborhood wet t-shirt contest where I was the 3 time defending
champion having just wrested the crown a week and a half ago from the local
legend Chastity. Fine, jeez, we don’t have a stupid neighborhood wet t-shirt
contest but it is not for a lack of trying on my part, trust me. Stupid Community Authority Board (fascists).
