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I woke up groggy this morning to the soothing sounds of my incontinent whining dog. After throwing on some basketball shorts commando-style, I headed out the door, Fido in tow. As we approached my apartment complex's exit, an uncharacteristically callypygian and scantily-clad Asian hottie power-walked past me.
Self-control had left the buillding like Elvis. I was soon endowed with a raging prominence generally reserved for hormonally-charged 16 year-olds. Unable to dam this river, and unwilling to follow said vixen past no less than three bus stops in this condition, I spun around and headed back for high ground.
I tried saying "Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies" to no avail. I mean, those puppies may as well be shoes lying at the foot of the rotating circular bed of my fantasy world.
Neriah, in the future, what can I do to tame this beast when again faced with this situation?
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