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Alright, so the other day my friend told me he's been going commando. Now, I'm thinking, is he enlisting in the army or just trying to spice up his laundry routine? Going commando – that's a commitment to freedom, my friends. No more constraints, no more boundaries. It's like every day is laundry day, you know? But I'm over here thinking, what if you get caught in a sudden downpour? That's not a refreshing shower; that's a swampy situation. Suddenly, you're not a free spirit; you're a soggy mess. Going commando is all fun and games until the weatherman gets involved.
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Now, going commando isn't just a personal choice; it's a commitment to living on the edge. Recently, I had to go through airport security. They have those full-body scanners that see everything. I stepped in, and the security guard gives me this look like, "Really, buddy?" I'm standing there thinking, "It's not what you think – I'm just an advocate for aeration!" But they don't buy it. I've never been so close to being flagged as a potential threat. Going commando turns airport security into a game of emotional strip poker. Note to self: invest in comfortable, non-suspicious-looking underwear before your next flight.
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So, my laundry routine is usually a game of roulette – red shirt, white socks, and a pair of underwear that may or may not have been washed recently. But going commando takes it to a whole new level. It's like playing laundry roulette on expert mode. You wake up, and it's decision time: commando or not commando? It's a high-stakes game, my friends. One wrong move, and you're stuck in a meeting, realizing you've made a terrible mistake. And let me tell you, there's no recovery from the commando calamity during a corporate presentation. You might as well be auditioning for the role of the office eccentric.
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So, I decided to give this whole going commando thing a try. Thought I'd liberate the nether regions, you know, let them breathe. But the problem is, society hasn't caught up with this trend. I'm walking down the street, feeling like a fashion renegade, and then I sit on a cold metal bench – instant regret. I'm pretty sure I left a part of my anatomy back there. Fashion without borders, they said. Well, it turns out, some borders are necessary for personal comfort. Going commando is like being a rebel without a cause, or in this case, without proper cushioning.
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