"okay, i'm going to get stuff by the dryer," exclaims my ladyfriend
"watch the chicken for me"
tongue planted firmly in my cheek, the bastard picks up this weeks issue of time out new york because hell, this week is about how your family fucks you up and i stand in the kitchen waiting for her to get back upstairs.
it's called the setup. please try to keep up.
but as i was flipping through it i saw this:
i saw this guy once on the new york one. he runs a studio that does nude yoga. now that's not really the shocking/wrong part. the shocking wrong part is he's wearing a onesie. a fucking ONESIE!!!!!
for those of you that don't have kids, a onesie is a one piece shirt underwear set that babies wear and it has little buttons so when your baby craps his/her drawers, you can change their diaper and have them reclothed instantly.
it's not for making yoga more disturbing.
i mean look at him, he looks like he took a dump in his yoga onesie.
OW! OW! OWWWWWW! my eyes, MY EYES!
then my girlfriend came back upstairs and we made dinner and watched television. and even though the nightmare of the adult male onesie will never go away, it was still a good night.