Rip, In Your Hose

A lot of us wish we had more time on our hands. Sometimes, it seems as if the tedium of the everyday world uses up all the good minutes in the day, leaving you hanging on the ragged end wondering, what happened?

But, if you had more time, would you use it wisely? I know that question is entirely subjective. My hobby could be your complete and utter waste of time. But can we get together and agree, as responsible adults, that if we did have more time on our hands, we wouldn’t spend it making up to 400 phone calls a day, in an effort to get working women to chat dirty talk to us about pantyhose?

Oooooooooookay.

We can? Stellar.

You know who can ride with us on this express train out of Weird Sexual Harassment Town? Rip Alan Swartz, of Upper Allen, PA, that’s who.

That's your...Ah, hell, you already know.

Sexual kinks and preferences are varied. You could like feet. I do not. Frankly, I think it’s strange that you like feet, what with their proclivity to sweat, and their bulbous, freaky midget knuckles. You might think it’s odd that I can only achieve orgasm after watching the Leif Garret Behind The Music documentary and smelling a bag of hammers. To each his own, is what I’m saying here.

Hot.

But I really just don’t get this. Not for the fetishism relating to the actual garment, but the antique approach to satisfaction. You called women at work, on the phone, and asked them if they were wearing pantyhose? What is wrong with you? There is an invention called the computer. It’s a magic box the is literally filled with magic and pictures. All kinds of pictures. Even ones that move. Even ones of pantyhose.

I’m going to go ahead and assume that you already knew all that, though. Which brings me to the next question: What excites you about calling women on the phone and making them feel slightly uncomfortable? It’s kind of nutty, is all. I could understand more if you were trying to be offensive, or shocking, or even downright threatening. That would be you exercising your primal aggression. You’d still be wrong, and doing it badly, but I would at least get the point. Right now you seem like a trollish little man who gets excited by a furrowed brow and an eyebrow raise.

The judge says that you’re also not allowed to set foot on the property of Hooters, Applebee’s, Bob Evans, or the First National Bank of Marysville. What did you do there? Also, were you not aware that you can actually walk into Hooters and harass those women in person? You are kind of out there, Rip. You should call me, so we can jaw this over. And yes I am.

Queen size.

One Response to “Rip, In Your Hose”

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