The day I sold out...

It was nowhere near as prolific as "The Day After Tomorrow."

Horrible movie. But something about the apocalypse is cool. Especially when the couple at the end of your theatre seating row is harvesting the hymenial sweets.

Completely true story. It was very distracting, not so much for the merits of enjoying a flesh session in a semi-crowded, dimly lit public place (which drew curiosity and ire alike from the patrons) but because the dude had an effeminate physique making it impossible to tell who was on top at any given time. Admittedly, it nicely spiced up the last half-hour of the movie, but the icing on the cake (or the... bu-cake if you will. Zing!)- dude was chimney sweeping until the lights came on and people stared. THEY STARED!

But we skillfully tracked this teeming couple down afterwards to solve the aforementioned "king of the hill" question and had this guy not just been boxing the beaver on the observation deck I would've mistaken him for a little bitch. Rock on, feminine spiky-green-haired guy. I wish I had a crystal ball so I could see what hijinks you're up to now (incidentally, that was sorta the plot to an obscure, backyard porn flick called "Crystal Balls").

Regardless, all that ocean motion before a live studio audience probably worked up a mean sweat. And I ain't gonna lie- I'm a sweaty guy. I destroy shirts with my gushing underarms. Or rather... I DID.

Past-tense. NO MORE! I started using Certain Dri, an industrial strength antiperspirant and THE SHIT WORKS. It literally drained the swimming pool from my pits- although there is a small, nickel sized patch that still defiantly sprouts up but it's fighting a losing battle. It's like Custer's last stand in the woods under my shoulders.

But now for the ultimate test... Can this be used off-label to cure swamp ass?