For the love of God, man, buy some fucking pants that fit! I’m sick of walking past you to find you sitting at your computer, with the volume up way to loud, with your fucking ass hanging out of the top of your pants and leaking out of your chair.
Pull up your fucking pants!
Or wear a belt. Or something. Do what I do, get big shirts to cover it up. Sweet Jesus on a Candy Cross with Sugar on Top, do you even realize how much of your crack is in plain sight? I’m glad I don’t have any classes with you.
Sheesh.
