Dear blog visitors, including those people who click the link because I once wrote a post about an ex-colleague who pinched another ex-colleague’s stomach fat, and a separate post about my friend’s description of undergoing the torment of waxing of every last pubic hair she owned.
I would like you all to be my Valentine, excluding those of you who are related to me (cos that’d just be kinda weird, not that I don’t think you are fabulous people) and those aforementioned “muffin top”/”front bum” phrase-seekers. The reason I would like the rest of you to be my Valentine is because my true love, Cataflam, has rejected my advances.
It is easy to see why I might fall for a hot ticket like Cataflam: If I spend too much time with Cataflam, apparently I run the risk of heart or circulation problems, weakness, shortness of breath, slurred speech, or problems with vision or balance.
Well! I think that is the definition of love, people, LOVE!!!!
Anyway, perhaps I was too available for Cataflam, and that was the reason for my spurned advances. He even had his bloody agent, the pharmacist, fend me off.
Apparently, my little masker of pain has caused previous lovers to have “black, bloody, or tarry stools, or cough up blood or vomit that looks like coffee grounds.” But I could learn to overlook a little discoloured stool for Cataflam.
Anyway, just puttin’ the offer out there. A girl sometimes likes a little company.
Thanks and regards,