Hug me do

Hug, hug me do.

You know I love you.

I'll always be true.

So ple-ee-ee-eease, hug me do.

I'm sure some of the Beatles were rolling in their graves as I wrote those words.

But that's what I'd like to sing to my bed every night.

To be honest I'm not much of a people hugger.

Unless I've had some help from a glass of fermented grape.

Or a tree hugger.

Ok, for that I'd probably need more than one glass.

Why?

Well, I feel uncomfotable bumping chests with people I'm not so familiar with.

And the fermented grape doesn't make me want to either.

It just helps ease the discomfort.

I can only hug someone I truly love/ like a lot.

Or if I meet someone after a very very long time.

Is that weird?

Most of my friends think I'm crazy and have a laugh everytime they see me hug someone.

Because what I do is more of a shoulder bump coupled with a pat on the back to make up for the weirdness of it all.

Call me crazy but it's true.

And I prefer being the huggee and not the hugger.

Like a spoonee and not a spooner.

Get the drift?


via

If you are a strange creation of God just like me, take my advice.

Head over to a Tempur showroom.

Buy yourself a Tempur bed, pillow and other bed accessories you don't need if you have shit loads of money.

If you don't have money growing from the money plant (like I thought I did when I was a whole lot younger), enjoy the Demo. It's free.

That bed is the boyfriend you never had.

It will wrap its expensive memory foamy arms around you and make you feel oh so loved.

It will make you smile.

And it will make you sing Hug me do.

And to add to the outer world experience, they have pillows too.

At 10 grand a pop.

Or you can buy it's evil twin for 3 at Portico.