Covet thine mouth.
If Moses hisself came down a mountain, bushes afire, with iPad tablets written in e-ink specifically stating:
"Thou shall cough on thy neighbour's wife"
- it is still not allowed. Nuh uh. Go on with ya. Go.
And while I am here in going to hell land, the first draft of that commandment was "thou shall not covet thy neighbour's ox." What's that? Not wife. Ox. Good to know. I and my ilk of uterus toting partners, are just a rib or euphemism for a cow. Brilliant. So you can fiddle with the wife, not the ox, got it? Put that in your pipe and covet it.
Back to me now. Apparently the universe thanked me for signing up for swimming again. I had the pleasure of being delegated to the "oh-my-god-I'm-so-out-of-shape-slow" lane. There are 3 qualifications for lap corridors, slow, medium, fast. Or in this Québec case, en Français, the signs say: Lent (no candies), moyen et rapide (for those who don't have their rabies shots and are rabid).
I stood in the water getting my goggles ready, as you do, I had the extra bonus of having a man cough on me from his sitting position at the side of the pool. He was doubled over coughing on me.
Coughing.
On my head.
Jaysus.
Well we were in the slow, as in mentally slow - mouth breeders that were raised by parents who flung phlegm at each other, what did I expect? But still. Firstly, why is he sitting so close? Secondly, hocking up a lung on me can only end with me smacking him upside his coughing machine with an ox. Thirdly, I checked, he had hands.
Oh. Sorry about me doing the breast stroke kick too wide...That looked like it hurt.
"Thou shall cough on thy neighbour's wife"
- it is still not allowed. Nuh uh. Go on with ya. Go.
And while I am here in going to hell land, the first draft of that commandment was "thou shall not covet thy neighbour's ox." What's that? Not wife. Ox. Good to know. I and my ilk of uterus toting partners, are just a rib or euphemism for a cow. Brilliant. So you can fiddle with the wife, not the ox, got it? Put that in your pipe and covet it.
Back to me now. Apparently the universe thanked me for signing up for swimming again. I had the pleasure of being delegated to the "oh-my-god-I'm-so-out-of-shape-slow" lane. There are 3 qualifications for lap corridors, slow, medium, fast. Or in this Québec case, en Français, the signs say: Lent (no candies), moyen et rapide (for those who don't have their rabies shots and are rabid).
I stood in the water getting my goggles ready, as you do, I had the extra bonus of having a man cough on me from his sitting position at the side of the pool. He was doubled over coughing on me.
Coughing.
On my head.
Jaysus.
Well we were in the slow, as in mentally slow - mouth breeders that were raised by parents who flung phlegm at each other, what did I expect? But still. Firstly, why is he sitting so close? Secondly, hocking up a lung on me can only end with me smacking him upside his coughing machine with an ox. Thirdly, I checked, he had hands.
Oh. Sorry about me doing the breast stroke kick too wide...That looked like it hurt.
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Sue