In your face and under.

I will slowly resume writing as a means to enhance my brain powers and waste your time. And I will start here with this:-

You must agree with me that new underwear (yes, new UNDERWEAR- the kind people wear underneath their clothes that people can't see. Unless you are a member of the Pussycat Dolls or have "Lil" at the start of your name) makes a girl happy.

DON'T even attempt to be shy about it girls. To deny so is to deny that you are of the female race.

People, NEW UNDERWEAR makes girls happy. Or should I say women? Ok, women.

And nyahs too.

I like new underwear. It makes my day a little brighter than it is but at the rate the weather is burning us alive here near the equator, I guess I am living under a spotlight (the actual equipment and not the imaginary look-at-me-universe!!! spotlight) and under that kind of heat and brightness, perhaps there is no need for underwear.

So when you need a little self-loving (not the masturbatory type please), get yourself some comfy inner garments for your own satisfaction. Make sure it's breathable because there's nothing less awesome than wearing new underwear that's making you sweat UNATTRACTIVELY like a pig making a mad dash to a leather-free year end sale where they'll serve free food for the first 50 early birds. Sweating pigs are so unsightly. Especially if they're metaphoric pigs and not actual pink oink oink pigs. Real pigs are always cute when alive. They cease to be cute in a jar or in your gut. Which reminds me of a kind of related story. It goes like this:-

There's this restaurant somewhere near where I live and it's a Chinese restaurant. Maybe and I say maybe because I don't know for sure, to lure in non-Chinese customers, they decided to part their restaurant sign into 2. 1 half is the name of the restaurant and the other half is a giant ass picture of a running pig with this serious shit-in-my-pants fearful look plastered on its face. I think there was even sweat drops in the picture. The pink petrified mammal also wore a chef's hat (which may be a sort of symbolism for the actual cook of the restaurant - who knows, they may have thought about the artsy analytical types who may view the sign and think about "hidden"meanings). On the top right hand corner of that picture, it wrote "PORK FREE- we do not serve pork" or something like that.

I'm sorry, I think that there is a hugely failed attempt at promoting your pork free restaurant because at a glance - no scratch that - at a thousand glances and 5 minutes of hard straight-on staring, it looks like serving pork is what the restaurant is all about and I think people would be so mesmerized by the fear on the pig's face that they'd think so too. That here is a place that kills terrified animals. Or here is a place that tortures its animals first before putting it on a plate for you to digest (in fact, some places actually do do this because they claim that the adrenaline causes the meat to taste better so they scare the living shit out of these animals first before murdering them - preferably boiling them alive. Aren't people dandy?) If I get the chance I'll go and take a picture of the sign so as to have you know that I did not make this up so I'd have something to write about. After all, this post is actually about UNDERWEAR.

I won't take pictures of new underwear though. Because that whole bit was based on feelings and not something I saw.

Unless you pay me. Feelings can so be bought. I have a bottle here somewhere...

But maybe I'll post a picture of a pig in new underwear...wouldn't that be the most relevant image? I'll see what I can do for yalls.

Leave a comment (preferably one that states that I rock and thank you for contributing to Vincent) and you may receive an abstract gift (depending on how "enhanced" my brain powers have become)!