[G]etting Loads {Of Poon / Peen}
aka
Getting Jiggy With It
I wonder what its like to be a girl or guy getting loads?
I bet when you’re getting loads you’re living a super-swell life pumping weights in the mirror and answering your phone at the same time, with mad dulcet tones all like ‘yeah I’m important, bet you can’t stop thinking about my abs’.
Think it was Danny Brown who said ‘fucking all night/drinking protein shakes in the morning’. It sounds like gym version of the inner Internet. Pull a lever on the side of the treadmill and you get transported into this weird lair full of hate sex and roid rage and migraines and sweating and sex noises. Sex induced heart attack. Its what everyones thinking on the rowing machine anyway. Used to train next to a guy who was always grunting like a piggy on heat. Shove that in your breakfast bap.
Super thick thighs strong as steel squashing any man who dares to come round.
When you’re getting loads of poon/peen how do you keep track of all your texts and numbers and who you’re talking to? Got text messages popping off left, right and centre. Which ones which? Enjoyed that candlelit dinner with the rump steak on Tuesday – think she was a brunette. Was it Keisha, was it Lisa, SHARKEISHA?
You do know though – after laughter comes TEARS. In this case. A biblical drought.
Dats riyut. Sometimes the ‘getting’ gear is stuck in reverse.
Its simple enough. You’ve been chatting to some golden boy, but in real life that golden boy is just another skeez chatting to some next rat behind your back and and that rat got no back so you’re all like ~sad~ and ~lonely~ and go home to eat a full bag of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk Giant Buttons. And then the cycle starts again.
I think some people in this world are just destined to be celibate. Take Morrisey. Apparently had sex once, didn’t like it, and gave up. Is there any correlation between this and 95% of his (decent) discography sounding like a mutant strain of a popular music compilation – NOW! That’s What I Call Suicide?
Make your own mind up. Do the right thing. And if you can’t decide between celibacy and getting loads – just devote all your sexual energy to a vibrator / Hare Krishna / cronut.
Stuck up shit creek with no paddle eh.
