Ok, so I'm not the real Slim Shady. Even the most charitable parent would hesitate before describing me as 'slim' and the word 'shady' only applies if I'm standing in front of you, blocking the sun and causing a kind of beer and curry fuelled eclipse.
But I digress. 18 hour days still rule, but stuff is still happening.
Stuff can wait until tomorrow. First I want to share a date story from a while back. Its only now, some 10 months later, that the horror has ebbed enough to allow me to relate it...
Picture the scene... date 2, and things are going well. Impressively well. Its back to her place for some coffee and what 1950s teenage fiction would call 'heavy petting'
Nature takes its inevitable course.
We're at the point of no return. I reach down in a fumbling effort to find my jeans and the back pocket that contains the protection that is oh so essential. She says "Wait! Hold on a moment! I've got something here..."
I'm suitably impressed by this organisation. She leans over to the bedside table and produces...
...and produces...
...a tape measure and a digital camera.
"For my collection" she says
You've never seen a chap get dressed so fast. God help anyone who asks to see that person's family album.
