*This is not me being irrational; over the past year and a half I have heard a few other rig urban legends involving women's underwear that I will not repeat here and now, but if you are curious I can tell you some stories. One involves some cajun voodoo shit.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Though I hardly ever look at facebook while on land, offshore I check it a few times a day simply out of boredom. When I read through my "friends'" complaints ("I can't fall asleep. Ugh!" or "Why did I ever agree to work a 12-14 hour shift today. FMLLL), it makes me want to punch someone in the face. Not really, but I have the strongest urge to post a status telling them to stop bitching and that I work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week and that I have to wash my underwear in the shower with me because I am afraid that someone will jerk off with them and put them back in the laundry and I'll never know and then I'm the idiot walking around in underwear someone jerked off in.* But no. I will not post this on Facebook. I will post it here.
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