I’ve got a real thing for laborers. I always have. There’s just something about them, in their grubby clothes with their disheveled hair and general overall griminess. They seem so tough, so manly, so very sexy.
I’m not talking about the stereotypical fat, old, gross construction guy. ick. Younger, cuter. I used to know a lot of them back in the day, the boys who came over from Ireland all worked as laborers: painters, roofers, landscapers, etc. They were always so dirty, their clothes covered in paint, grease, tar, grass, something. They liked their jobs, they liked going out to the bars afterwards, they liked meeting women and drinking and laughing and having a good time. They liked to fight and argue and sing and dance. Very full of life. Did I mention they liked meeting women? I loved those boys, those dirty filthy horny boys.
I say this because one of the offices in my building is being renovated, so there’s been all sorts of different construction-type guys around lately. I’ve noticed two in particular, they look like electrical wire guys, maybe, and jesus do they have me distracted. I’ve only been to the bathroom a thousand times to try and get a glimpse of them in the halls. I can’t get enough, I want them to make out with me in the supply closet. I’ve got some wires for you to cross, boys. I’ve got some walls you can paint. I’ve got an office you can renovate. I’ve got a bit you can drill. I’ve got a roof you can tar. I’ve got a lawn you can mow.
What am I, a 15-year-old boy in the grip of puberty? christ. Something is seriously wrong with me. I’m not normally this boy-crazy.
I tell you, it’s my damn vagina and her crazy sister Uterus. They want babies! They are relentless! They say: Somebody better get me a penis right now.
coincidence the word “labor” has appeared in this post 8,000 times?
- a rumble under the surface, a brand new sky
- Is nothing sacred anymore?