When Olympic Nipples Aren’t the Story, Actually

ok, it’s like 14 degrees in vancouver. the “spring” olympics are on and we had to fly in snow from 2 hours away by helicopter to make the moguls work.

wtf.

i’m back from my time in victoria. we met just 2 hippie chicks. one of them took a shine to Faisel. lucky Faisel. she’s a christian, though, so she wouldn’t slide him off to her place to fuck him. that’s ironic eh! not that i didn’t try to liberate her, mind you.

anyway, i’m back in vancouver and i’m watching all the party-lovers having a good time downtown at the free venues and the screaming matches on granville. fuckers. i have a job. lots of teachers will have no fucking job in 5 months once the government gets through with screwing us. i’m going to get militant with my union, bitches. no shit.

wow. where did that come from!? 🙂

so i’m back in vancouver and buddy’s watching some olympics on the tube at the bar. we join up. we start drinking and this cute canadian figure skater and her dude finish their act and what do we see? happy nipples as she comes off the ice. she fell and stuff, so they’re not going to win, but all through the bar it’s all about the nipples.

now, i’m clearly no prude and i like the nipples. and i’m no fan of the fucking olympics $9 billion dollar handjob. but come on, the woman just had a shock to her system in her whole life’s work and the mainly goombas in the bar are all over her nipples. give it a break and figure it out when it matters.

please.

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