I’m currently applying sorbolene cream to my sunburnt back with a spatchelor. I love being single; it’s a riot. My brother and his partner have gone away for the weekend and do what couple people do….I’ve forgotten what that is. I on other hand have come home from a day at the beach with third degree burns on my back because I don’t know how to apply sunscreen; actually it’s because I don’t have a partner to apply sunscreen on my back. I now look like I have fallen asleep in a solarium.
So here I am in my flat on my own with no one to rub cream on my back. I’m left to perform some sort of circus act to apply the cream on the said burns…..namely with the spatchelor. I almost asked someone on Manhunt to come over purely for the purpose, but I was concerned that I would have to follow that with sexual favours…and considering he was John Candy’s double, I really wasn’t that enthused.
Ahhhhhhh. So yeah…Judy and I went to the beach today….Tamarama. There were so many hot guys there that I almost threw up. What is it with Generation Y men? God gave Gen Xers laptops, the internet and credit card debt; Generation Yers got great arses, tight abs, pecs of steel and matinee faces. Did we do something wrong? Did we miss the Come Collect Your Hot Arse announcement? Were we drunk? (probably). Regardless, I want my money back…..or my hot body so I can go out with a hot body. Honestly, today was like being continually caught between the pages of a Calvin Klein catalogue. Yes…just like particles of dust….that’s how we felt…they never looked at us…just through us at each other. If it wasn’t for the gasps and cries coming out of our mouths, they wouldn’t have realised we were there at all.
I think I want to set up a Casting Agency.
C
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