Ts & Ps To The Hot People At This Cool Pool Today Because The Shirt Is Coming Off And These Moobs Haven't Seen The Sun In Months

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There is no more vulnerable moment than the first time you pop the top at a pool in the summer. Exposing the world to the disgusting mess you have created over the winter. Like some kind of hillbilly Apple event but the iPhone has moles all over its man boobs.

For eight long, dark months I have been destroying my body with alcohol, pizza, and coffee. For eight long, cold months I have hid this pale monstrosity from the world. But we can no longer hide. At some point we must unleash the beast.

I'm heading to the pool today and everyone is going to feel the wrath this pasty mound of blah.

But I'm not going to just any pool. I'm going to a cool pool. A pool on a rooftop of the brand new, super hip and trendy apartment building in town. A pool that is going to be crawling with smokeshows, men and women alike. A pool where I will instantly bring the average hotness down a full 3 points.

I'll be easy to spot. Shirt off with a level of florescent white light radiating from my chest that had only previously been experienced by people who flirted with death but were sent back to the living realm just before making it to heaven. Near death survivors describe it as a beautiful white aura that fills your soul with happiness and comfort. Except mine will fill their eyeballs with horror and regret. A living reminder that no matter how much they spend on rent they can't escape the vile creatures like me that live in their city.

I normally have no shame but I must admit I'm scared today. Last time I was at this pool it was for an "influencer" party, which I was not invited to. I drank tons of their free alcohol and sat next to the pool with my shirt firmly buttoned to the top. I made fun of these people in a blog and on my podcast. I mocked their hot ways.

Now I must walk amongst them again. Like a pasty Sasquatch lumbering through a forest of botox and silicon. If they are all Ceasar salads then I am a jar of mayonnaise in the sun. And by the end of the afternoon I will smell just as bad.

There really is no winning here either. If I wear sunscreen to protect my transparent body then I'll just sit there looking all opaque and sad. If I refuse to wear sun screen then I will end up looking like a Chief Wahoo super fan who can't let go of the vaguely racist red logo.

I should have taken this repulsive physique to the public pool first. A training camp of sorts. At least get it a base tan to work with. After all you know what they say, "If you can't tone it, tan it." Keep this filth where it belongs, with the rest of the gross poors.

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This is like not swinging a baseball bat in a decade and jumping right in against Emmanuel Clase. This body was made for fish fry reviews, not swimsuit season.

But per usual I wasn't thinking ahead and now I'm fucked. But not literally because none of these women will touch me with a 10 foot pole after seeing me with my shirt off. 

So Ts and Ps to them and RIP to me. Here lies Will Burge who passed away from sun poisoning and embarrassment.