Victim Of The Old Gay Soap Trap

I got a good workout today at the YMCA. I swam 20 laps and just about every muscle in my body was aching.

After my swim, I limped my sorry ass back to the showers singing the words to I’m coming out by Diana Ross. I was soaping up my hair because I am to cheap to buy shampoo when I drooped the soap. I look down, with one eye open in soap stinging pain and here’s what I see:

I still don’t know the name of the man who owns those extra pair of feet. I can tell you this. He is in a lot better shape than me, stronger than me and hung like a horse.

I will forever associate Calvin Kliene’s “Crave” with a painful rectum.

I had no idea that YMCA could remind me of prison so much.