My bank called me the other day, not to assure me that Bank Card #3 was safely on its way to my house (still no sign of it!), but to inform me that I am a “good customer” and to encourage me to apply for a loan. Well, thanks. Of course I’m a good customer! I give them all my money and then I can’t get it back! I bet they don’t want to give me a loan at all. They probably just want to shift some money into my account for tax evasion purposes and then amuse themselves watching me desperately trying to get at it with no bank card, like a cat trying to get into an unopened tin of sardines.
Anyway, I applied for a loan. When they ask me to pay it back, I’ll tell them that it’s my policy to send all payments by way of Antarctica.
Oh, hey, remember that movie I posted on YouTube about my tits? Well, someone made a comment about it, so today I got an e-mail with the subject line, “Someone has commented on Robin’s tits.” Ha ha! Good to know. Though not surprising, frankly.
I’ve now filled my weekly quota of talking about Breasts and Banking, Misadventures Therein. Do you think somehow I could combine the two subjects? “I lost my bank card and had to resort to flashing my tits for cash!” Soon the day will come.
In case you were wondering, zucchini is not safe to inhale, particularly in an auto-erotic context.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get drunk. And don’t fret: next week I’ve got “BE INTERESTING!” pencilled into my diary.