Puss ‘n Boots
Haven’t written in a while. Maybe I’ve been working my ass off. Maybe they’re on to me. Maybe I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. Maybe I’m still doing them. Who gives a fuck, anyway? Make a little junk mail. Do a little dance. Get down tonite.
What do you want to talk about? Pussy? Excellent. Good topic. You know kids, the best part about fall is women start putting legs into boots. Boots with fur on top. Boots with heels at bottom. Boots that go all the way up to those fine, 7 for all Mankind asses. Christ, I get hard just thinking about it.
We have the usual assortment at our agency: A couple honeys from Lincoln Park (including my ex), a few MILFS commuting from the North Shore; and, of course, a flock of chicks from Wicker Park. Wouldn’t be a creative department without the artsy chicks, the ones who like dancing with fags at Berlin, crappy plays at midnight and burritos from some shack on Ashland Avenue. Sound like your agency? Maybe it is, bro.
If any girls are reading this here’s how I want you to dress tomorrow. Starting from the floor, put on your longest boots, brown suede. Then pour your fine self into a pair of jeans. On top rock a plaid flannel shirt. I won’t tell you what to do with your hair. Ladies- it’s that fuckin’ easy.
Tomorrow then… I’ll be the man in the elevator with a raging hard on.
Chicago Psycho 