Today's lyric:
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"I bet your Mama was a tent-show queen
And all her boyfriends were sweet sixteen?
I'm no schoolboy but I know what I like -
You should'a heard 'em just around midnight."
Rolling Stones: "Brown Sugar"
From the album: "Sticky Fingers"
A BT-employed friend of ours was enjoying his conjugals of a Sunday morning, when the bedside phone (one of hundreds in the house - it was like being in a clock shop at midday) rang. And rang. And rang.
Eventually, he could stand it no longer.
"Hello son, you took a long time answering?"
"I was down the garden, Dad" he panted in reply.
"You sound out of breath. Did you have to run back in?"
"Look, Dad, I'm in the middle of something* right now. Can it wait?"
"Sure. I just wanted to tell you about..."
Click.
* He's divorced now. There was reference to her being called a 'something' in the grounds...
Not that Mrs.D's into boxing, but she's off to her weekly weigh-in tonight. At the last count, she was -30lbs/60 days. Half a pound of butter
every day on average for two months.
Strangely, the weight seems to be being shed from all round, not just in the tummy region. She reckons she's lost 7" in the ladybumps area? Imagine the equivalent, lads, in the trouser-snake department? Blimey, I'd be almost minusly-endowed!
As a divertissement (et je ne sais pourquoi) I've been creating some new French words.
(Note to self: Must get out more!)
So far I've come up with 'Departyr' meaning to abandon a rave, and 'Devanner' meaning to leave a convoy of mobile homes.
Aidez-moi!
Oh. And
HAPPY ST GEORGE'S DAY!Labels: Anecdotes, Diet, Verbiage
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:29 AM
Drinking and Driving (but clearly not simultaneously)
