Sometimes I feel like a fat girl trying to side step her way out of a wedgie knowing well that the underwear of tomorrow will slide back along my large, sweat checks into the chasm of my ass. Lucky for me I am neither: fat, a woman, or an underwearer, but these routines that fill my day, weeks and months are my daily addictions and give me some semblance of normality as I pry my daily duties from the ass of procedure knowing well that I will just have to repeat myself the next day. Like fat fingers fisting a handful of ladyfingers, my daily activities consist of doing the expected and something must be done to change these redundancies.
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