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And I learned not to throw on in the towel

  • And I learned not to throw on in the towel I learned to wipe my sweat with it and keep pushing!
  • And I learned not to throw up on my sweat towel. I also learned I had a true friend in Danny C., who bulked up by 50 lbs just for the creative limitation it offered both of us
  • . After that, I told him he desperately needed to go on Weight Watchers... so he
  • didn't. He never listens to me. He ate and he ate and he ate until he suddenly
  • he was rushed to hospital and informed of his impending death-by-obesity. "You'll humour a dying man. Fetch me some cookies won't you? And to go with the cookies can you get some
  • ice cold frothy buttermilk? That and cookies is my dying request." He slumped back into his hospital bed, corpulant, pale, glistening. The nurse came in. "Roll over, big fella.
  • It's time for your high colonic, followed by one of my ass-slapping massages...if you're gonna kick the bucket, you're going out with an ass slap, same way as when you came in...
  • you're going out. Right through the bung hole!" Good lord I thought making for the door, the masseuses around here have too weird of fetishes for me. I ran for the nearest coffee
  • shop to drown my sorrows in some steaming hot, black java. I sat with my collar up and my back against the wall, ready to run out the back way in case any of those weird masseuses
  • came looking for me with their spiny, prickly fingers, karate-chopping heads off and shouting out, "Trump is Great!" After the coffee, I slipped out through the bathroom window.

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