Why the fuck should I read about--or care--about some blogster writing about motherfucking watch straps? Fuck the Time Bum. He can eat a big can of Munster fucking cheese out of my fucking asshole with a big fucking spoon. Fuck that shit. Oh! sez the Bum, look the fuck at me! I'm reviewing some motherfucking watch straps! I'm so fucking important, because I'm a watch blogger! Everyone will shit their fucking pants and their tongues will hang out of their fucking sewer-like mouths because I wasted two hundred motherfucking words on some bullshit fucking overpriced fucking watch straps to hook onto the bullshit motherfucking microbrands that give me free wartchs and fucking T shirts and other bullshit motherfucking swag so I can spend two hundred fucking words on their fucking bullshit.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF TIME BUM:
The Time Bum walks in the door after a long day in the pit at Jiffy Lube
TIME BUM: Honey, I'm home! And, the UPS man left me some new Delugs watch straps to review!
MRS. TIME BUM: Fuck you.
TIME BUM: What's the matter, hon?
MRS. TIME BUM: I want a divorce, you cocksucking jerkoff. If you tell me one more time about how great Delugs fucking watchstraps are, I'll cave your fucking skull in with a fireplace poker, you cunt.
TIME BUM: Get me a Pabst, and make it snappy, you whore. And get dinner on the fucking table.
The Time Bum sits down in his easy chair, lights a Pall Mall, and Mrs. Time Bum walks up behind him and brings down a fireplace poker on his head, caving in his fucking skull
You want a new watch strap? Order yourself a Di Modell, and fuck the rest of the fucking shit.
I find tv watches to be like the guys who raise their truck you need a fricken ladder to get in. It’s a attempt to look cool... that’s all.