I. Around 4am yesterday I woke up, still quite drunk, and realized I needed to get out of bed for some water. But, wuh-oh-- my arm was asleep! I started rolling my wrist in circles with my other hand, but no sensation returned. It wasn't until I noticed that I was using two hands to roll the wrist of my third hand, that I dropped Colleen's right arm as gently as possible and stole out to the kitchen.
II. Several hours later, Colleen and I were on an interminable 4-mile bus ride. In front of us was a man so obese that my emotions completely bypassed the first four stages of the Morbid Obesity Encounter (curiosity, sympathy, gratitude that I'm not that heavy, fear that I might be someday) and settled on Stage 5: Blinding Rage.
The man's arm was draped over the back of the seat next to him, but it looked nothing like an arm. Save for two very faint impressions where most people have an elbow, it could have been a sack of pressed turkey. I was sitting all the way back in my seat and was still afraid that his arm would smother me if we went over a bump wrong. I hated this man!
And then he turned to look out the window, and my fury instantly dissipated, because he had a broomhandle moustache. And suddenly he wasn't that fat.
I'm going to start putting moustaches on my thighs and belly and the backs of my arms, because now I know: moustaches make fat invisible.
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2 comments:
You know, pretty much nothing on the internet, or even the TV or movies, actually makes me laugh out loud...except you.
Until now I had forgotten about fat moustache man, but Friday night I attended a beer party wherein I shared the story of the black man who's "got four kids, I know only got two, if I got four kids, then WHERE'S MY MONEY?" And everyone loved it.
And I love you!
<3,
C. Mo
PS. http://www.boasas.com/?c=828
because anything containing or relating to moustaches now remind me of you.
<3
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