So said a Pretty as I passed by her flat
"If you don't slim your belly, no girls will fancy you
And if you want to pull a bird, shave off that 'tashe too!"
Oh waily waily!
The Partaking of many an Xmas lunch and buffet with much quaffage of carbonated beverages of an inebrial nature has left me somewhat rotund about the equatorial belt of my vast frame.
Nude Year's Resolution was 600dpi (if you know what I mean, and in this case, I'm not sure even I do!)
However, New Year's resolution is to get all slim and svelte again!
Perhaps I need to begin *shudder* The Exercise* *gulp!*.
I'm trying - I mean, last night, I ran all the way from Markarth to Winterhold. You'd think that charging over terrain for hours, fending off wolves and twatbastard Ice Trolls would get me in shape! But no - even being chased round a raised dais by a dread draughr overload doesn't lighten the load about my belly!
All them expended endorphins¹, and I'm still porky!
Mind you, she may have a point on the facial follicle adornment, for last night there was a dampness in the air. And unlike a regular chin-merkin, the twiddly 'tashe (being horizontal instead of a verticality) tends to store up the dusk based dew.
Hirsute soupcatcher condensation is probably not all that appealling to them Young Womens I hear about. Tonsil tonguing saliva sharing snogifications are all the rage - but a bit of natural golden shower of ye goddes accumulating on the lip-ferret, and it's Ewwww! I'm not snogging you!
Maybe I can impress them with a new flickery finger idiosyncrasy! Stripping out the 165,000 pints of Guinness from the ends of me 'tashe² in elaborate fashion!
¹ WHAT EWOKS FIND ON THEIR FISHIES
² THIS IS TRUE, FACT FANS! AS PART OF OUR DEPARTMENTAL XMAS SOIRÉE, THERE WAS THE NOW LEGENDARY QUIZ. ONE QUESTION OF WHICH WAS 'HOW MANY PINTS OF GUINESS ARE LOST THROUGH MOUSTACHE ENTRAPMENT EVERY YEAR'. ANSWER: 165,000. JUST THINK - SOME SAD GIT WENT AROUND WRINGING OUT A YEARS WORTH OF STALE GUINNESS FROM SODDEN MOUSTACHES!
