We have, once again, reached the next Monday of our existence. How are you feeling about that? You sleepy? You already over it? You being an orange lasagna eating cat about the whole situation? Well shut the fuck up and change your attitude.
You’ve been knowing this day was coming for at least 7 days now. You’re prepared. You got this shit. Your weekend was too short? You vodka’d your whole Saturday away? Your five year old spilled drink all in your bed on Sunday? Fucking great! You didn’t die. So that means it didn’t kill you. And you know that if it doesn’t kill you, it just makes you stronger.
So now you’re a fucking jacked ass muscle beast ready to throat punch whatever Monday bullshit tries to jump up in your face with its punk ass. Now you’re a goddamn gamma monster ready to punch that fucking time clock through the fucking floor. Now you’re the anthropomorphic embodiment of a C. T. Fletcher slogan T-shirt…and damn right…It’s Still Your Mother Fucking Set.
You see this website you’re reading this on? It was supposed to be overhauled over three weeks ago. I was supposed to use a new logo, new art for each post, maybe some music, and it’s still this blue and white ass blog site. But hey, I’m not dead, so it didn’t kill me, so I must be Hulk Hogan’d than a mother fucker right now.
Take all this testosterone I’m channeling in these words and inject it into the scrotum of your attitude and get ready to fucking choke slam any bitch ass obstacle that has the audacity to look at you.
I fucking believe in you…so lift something, bitch!
Have a great goddamn week.
“It’s still your mother fucking set.” — C. T. Fletcher