I'm Thinkin Bout Joinin A Country Club


You see, I’m very fancy. I have many fancy things. A 2004 Ford F250 with a rebuilt engine? Yep. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg, my friends. I also have a frother for my coffee. Amazon Deal of the Day. Ever heard of it, bitch? I’ve long been fancy. That’s probably why I’m so beloved by our readership. They can identify with my fancy lifestyle. Just last week I used Uber Eats for the first time. Can you imagine? Ordering food and it shows up to your moderately sized house in a flash. Convenient yet still stunting on the haters. It’s not only Uber that makes my life the picture of luxury and wealth.

I’m shopping for purses.
I’m giving pumpkins the pipe.
I’m wearing waffle printed robes.
I’m fuckin Barney all over the joint to include on my lovely chaise lounger.

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It’s time to take it to the next level and join a country club. Time after time, I get asked, “Hey Chaps. What club do you belong to?” I sit there with mouth agape and say simply, “Please respect my privacy during this difficult time of choosing a club.”

They dont. They push and push and push. Well, it’s finally time to join the rest of the Stoolies and join a country club! Can’t wait to show you my various quarter-zip jackets and assortment of lemonade flavors. Lemon apple. Lemon-lime. Lemon-grapefruit. Lemon… mother of god…mint? Lemon-mint! Oh what wonderful refreshment that will be after a trip around the links where I have preferable tee time privileges as a member. Incredible. I’ll keep you posted. Namaste.