Moisturising your hands before you floss makes for an arduous task.
With only a few seats available on the train this morning I had to make a choice, sit next to a man who had his legs spread halfway to China, or try to make a home between a petite man and a pudgy woman. I chose the latter.
My decision appeared to irk the woman. She made a point of ripping the edge of her jacket out from under my thigh with a flourish. She could have easily dodged this injustice by sliding over but she was saving that small gap to the right of her for a special occasion.
It took five minutes before my tolerance hit rock bottom and I had to jostled my way back out in a bid for freedom. I made a beeline for the man and his record breaking leg spread, which worked out to be the least awkward of the two. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Last week I listed an item to sell on eBay. I scored 15 watchers, 8 bids and double my asking price. But the warm glow of achievement it brought slid right out of my arse when I saw an email from the buyer.
He asked me if I was thinking about posting the item. He had thought it pertinent to email me this request only one day after issuing payment. Like I’d been sitting here holding on to it for weeks, saying my final goodbyes, and working through my separation anxiety with a therapist.
Holding back the urge to personally deliver the package, into his face, I mailed his ‘precious’ and marked it as shipped. I hope one day he can bring himself to forgive me for my insolence.
I was blown away by it. I didn’t even think they had an arse.
Karl Pilkington on a farting snake.
When I got home yesterday and went to the bathroom, I discovered my fly was already undone.
I did some maths and came to the startling conclusion that 3pm was the last time I went to the bathroom. That means for 4 hours everyone was getting the inside scoop on my pants without my knowledge.
I forgot about how she takes a shit in the middle of the road in her wedding dress. It’s such an awesome movie.
Message sent to a friend while watching Bridesmaids.
I made an effort to fit in a few weights at my gym before an aerobics class last week. Weights are the bane of my life so I powered through two sets and was relieved I had only one left to complete.
I wandered over and was dismayed to see a giant sloth slouched all over the machine I needed reading email on his phone. Two other girls were eyeing off the machine from the corner, so he naturally assumed we were all competing for his affections. He offered us each a side glance to assure us that yes ladies, he knew that we knew he was shit hot.
Hey Fabio, you’re in the women’s weights section, it automatically cancels you out. Get off it and get over yourself.
The trefoils are basically you saying how can I get fat without bringing any pleasure to my face.
Adam Carolla on Girl Scout Cookies
I listened to a podcast recently that featured a guest recounting an Irish superstition passed down through her family: If you hear 3 knocks someone close to you has died.
As I sat on the toilet at work pondering how this superstition came about, a client unfamiliar with our office toilet etiquette knocked loudly on the door and preceded to open it before I could hastily inform him it was occupied. I jumped up and slammed the door shut.
There are other kinds of knocks that represent a different kind of death. The death of one’s dignity.
I came home this afternoon to find a tv unit dumped on my lawn.
While I fumed and thought of elaborate ways to track the culprit down and snap their neck using the top drawer of the tv unit, I heard a loud thud that echoed up the street. When I peeked outside, the tv unit had been joined by a cabinet and a side table. No one was in sight. I changed windows and saw a neighbour disappear into his open garage and subsequently a table, four chairs, a single bed and a mattress completed the display.
With the mystery solved, I gave him the benefit of the doubt that my lawn would be furniture free before the week was through. Primarily because I don’t want to cross anyone who can carry an entire pantry cupboard down the lane on their back, without breaking a sweat.