I went to the supermarket and saw a guy in tight grey sweatpants jerking off. Also Happy Birthday to my Dad.
Let’s talk about the wanking first.
Initially, I thought he was just stratching himself (the wanker, not my Dad), but no, really he was wanking off through the fabric. Right there in the salad dressing and condiment aisle. Wanking. Staring at a shopper and then doing all of the above plus breathing heavy like a donkey.
And, you know, if there is one thing worse than a public jerker, it’s a noisy public jerker.
Long story short, two stock boys, an embarrassed store manager and the public jerker answering the store manager in a breathy mid-jerk voice, well, it made for some delightful entertainment is what. I must have pretended to read the back of six balsamic vinegar bottles. It was delightful.
This is now the second public masturbation I have seen this month. So, there’s that. You’d think subzero temps would freeze the randy-handy right out even the most public of jerkers, but no. No, they’re alive and well and happily jerking here in Chicago.
Bleh. But, anyway, yes, hi, today is my father’s birthday. The boy born in a blizzard, is I think how the story goes. Happy Birthday, Dad! Sorry about the wank story.