Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

Da-dum-da-da....da dum da dah....

Here come de bride, and warning signs abound.

A colleague is taking the plunge. Marrying. And already he's making little noises that should be major, major alarm bell ringers...says that she's "really moody"...according to him, the poor thing has terrible A.D.D. and can't concentrate on anything...she resolves problems by passive aggressively not speaking to people for days on end.

All this is before the "I do's"! Jeez. Can't wait till the honeymoon's over. Poor schlub. Sounds like a perfect recipe for turning over half your paycheck for the rest of your working life.

Oh, yes, the photo. What I wouldn't give to be the groom on the wedding night! Oh joy, bliss, supreme satisfaction. To be able to give oneself completely, a shiver and a sigh.

She don't half give me the f***ing horn.

Which reminds me: despite my obvious concern, there's one good thing he's got to look forward to: all that great married SEX! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoh, ah, sorry, had to catch my breath, couldn't stop laughing.

Anyhow, in keeping with my regular attempts to find reasons to be cheerful (and to end on a positive note): something proactive my co-worker can always consider is the option of murder-suicide.

Sure beats divorce lawyer bills, which I've paid before, but only after using the invoice for, um, dirt road clean up. Buff my scrotum if you can't figured it out.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 6:42 AM