Dick's Sock

Today, I was clearing out my comedy travel bag. Washing the stankin' stuff that has laid in my bag since last weeks Buford (Ga) gig.Seven days ago,I had worked all day at my ironworking job,and drove four hours to the hotel.It should have taken half that,but Buford has become a suburb of Alanta.It's sixty miles away,yet it has Lake Lanier.That is Alanta's water source. It took me one hour and twenty minutes to drive the last eight miles.I was in a hurry to get a shower and get to the Buford Varity Theater.Whilst(thats a word in Haletown) inserting my room card in the door lock,Ben Rothelsburger(still sporting wood from his last alledged sexual assault) stopped by to offer a helping hand."I'm not a NFL center and that's not a football Big Ben,"I say. I go to pull my legally permited and constitutionly protected,forty calibur smoke pole so I can kill Mr. Gropemister.By now his attention has been diverted by a hotel employee, a lovely Indian woman with a goat stinking ass,and I was able to escape without murdering (and robbing)Ben.I really wanted the super bowl ring,(that was bumping off my balls), and I would have disposed of his body in the water supply of millions of Falcon fans. Best water they would have ever had. Winner Water. Get you some.Dirty bird! Anyway,as I was washing my stuff I realized I had left one new high dollar Under Armor sock behind. A five dollar sock.I was pissed. My wife said look at the bright side,that if I lose a leg in a motorcycle wreck I'll have a sock,provided the other foot isn't mangled too bad . I just went with it,I said,"If it gets cold I can wear the sock on my pecker". My wife said,"'You can donate the excess sock for a few hundred head bands to poor children playing basketball." Moral of this story; If you are on a play ground in the Atlanta area and the sweat running in your face starts to smell like goob,remember me. Who's your cousin!