Tag Archives: gloves


I took off one of my cancer-causing gloves to try on one of Wendy’s gloves. It weighed about 5 pounds, and was such a tight fit, and so warm, when I wedged my hand inside I complained to Wend that it felt like I’d plunged my hand into a goat’s intestines. She left me. All by myself to look at another breathtaking array of Canadian (aka BETTER) candy.


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I live in constant fear.

I live in constant fear.

So often, I don’t need my reproductively harmful asbestos gloves. I just warm my hands on the heat of Wendy’s rage.

She’s terrifying, I tell you.

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