Tuesday, February 08, 2005

If You Don’t Want The Goods Don’t Maul ‘Em 

The lady at the gate has wonderful soft baps and I swear her fruit pies will be my undoing.

My ‘bust a gut for January’ campaign has been a complete flop, and I’ve told her I’m holding her responsible.
Despite a month of thrashing about on the exercise bike like a gigantic possessed hamster, I’ve managed to achieve the exact opposite of what I was trying to. It’s so unfair, etc.
We need some new bathroom scales. I want to get some techno-scales that pretend to like me and say “No fat content today, Tim! And hey! You been working out?” unlike the current ones which glumly flash discouraging digits then sneer when my back’s turned.

The lady at the gate smiled contemptuously, as you might if you were listening to a fat idiot in denial.
I was about to launch into my ‘but muscle is heavier than fat’ spiel when a custard tart caught my eye. I picked it up, fondled it for a while, put it down again, picked it up again and paid for it. I thought she was going to thump me.

"Like the great man says - if you don’t want the goods, don’t maul ‘em," I trilled, unintentionally looking at her breasts at the same time, and immediately wishing that I'd done neither.

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