It all began on that sack of shit valentine’s day. I did not want to go out but she insisted that a restaurant full of solid food would be romantic. I had a workout on that day and also my stomach can currently handle but foods of liquid consistency. But not Br- (aq) I suppose as it’s poison. In bitter sea water.
She arrived at my house wearing a shimmering top and I was just dressed in comfortable sports gear which accentuate my HUGE chest. I said you should cover up a bit dear nobody wants to see that. Then I asked her what she had eaten prior to going to this restaurant. A bar of chocolate. I said how many times have I told you there are 15g of saturated fat per 100g which is half your recommended daily allowance. It’s only because I care and fear unhealthy foods. Ignore the fact that those which I eat have caused that I no longer have super-aqueous capacity because I am a hypocrite.
She was ready to go but I had to just inject 5ml of hexahydrobenzylcarbonate into my 1, 5-dimethylwang. Of course I tell my mother I am but urinating. I exited the bathroom threw the needle at some crow who was nibbling on one of my 700 displaced bouncy balls on top of a chimney, then entered my living room to see my bored girlfriend and my brother seizing the ‘day’ shall we say. The feeling of a sinking heart crippled my corpus, perhaps one of the worst sensations that one as a human can endure without squatting. I bellowed what the bloody hell you doing, my own BROTHER. But he said I will give you 30g of slow digesting casein protein if you forgive me! I could not deny that, I left happy. Besides, it’s not asif he can help his accelerated hormones, he is on FLUOXYMESTERONE-4-ANDROSTEN-9α-FLUORO-17α-METHYL-11β, 17β-DIOL-3-ONE after all.
We ascended a large mountain. I could feel myself becoming catabolic so I tore a couple of sheep apart devoured la plupart and threw them onto various bungalows below occupied by helpless grannies and war veterans. Have you ever smelled a sheep cum whey cum ROID protein fart?
Anyhow, the blood and cerebral entrails having been wiped on my girl’s ‘new and sparkly’ top, we at the top of the mountain flew thither for I am devoid of a currus due to my protein/ROID tendencies. Quomodo volastis? You may ask. The Dorsi Latissimus at each side is on me so wide that I am seriously aerodynamic. You would think girls might want to stay with a superman.
The restaurant was some foolish italian/american place, totally packed with annoying naive tramps and skinny bleach-blond boyfriends who had but one thing on their mind (apart from of course chloric-1 acid). I on the other hand a more decent being bluntly remarked myself to prefer other things to be done. She said can we just please sit down and put those away, as she perceived other girls’ pasta slide out of their open, watering mouths: a consequence of conspecting my HUGE chest. I said dear it’s not my fault I have bigger pectoral mass than that of you and your mother integrated with respect to dee-pecs.
We ordered food and I took pasta with all the rest of it (hopefully a large pile of meat) and she ate some salad and lasagne thing. I took one look at my plate and screamed GARçON! Yes sir? What the f’'(x) do you call this? Is this supposed to be a ‘sizeable’ portion of meat? I did not go crazy I maintained composure and remained coherent throughout. She said calm down you are embarrassing us this is supposed to be a romantic meal. Yeah right. What’s more romantic than severe catabolism? The waiter evidently was not hearing me, so I mutated my stance from a less than corporally justifying slouch to swift erection and petrifying pectoral exposit, whereunder I inadvertently propelled my chair into the spinae erectorem of a poor 12 year girl on her first date with but the medial head of my savage indeed gaulish gastrocnemius.
My girlfriend’s face always reddens when she is either embarrassed offended or f (x)ing frightened out of her pink panties. She as a female knew herself to have no control and although at the beginning she were overtaken by indeed vaginal bewilderment as a result of my abdominis rectoris, she wished I did not have such a body as time progressed. I took a glance at her, and apologised to the 12 year old girl with such a bright future, but I don’t think she heard me the paramedics were drowning my Sorry 2004s, at which some old man with a walking stick spluttered out a retort of…‘it’s 2005…’ No need for unnecessary vivid and frankly disturbing details which are not to be tolerated in peaceful society, I simply punched him in the face.
Now as the spanish might say, al ver mi HUJE CHECHESTO, the waiter turned around and began to sprint. What you think I don’t squat? Using just one head of the total 8 in my 2 quadriceps I caught him up dragged him back the my table and told him if he doesn’t give me more beef I will eat his FACE for protein. He gave me another large plate full of it, and every one is happy! My girl says I am so nasty but in a fond way I think. So I was guessing she liked it!
Of course I ate too much. I tried to conceal my feeling of sickness, you know, to keep the date romantic; but it could not be helped I had anticipated such an event. She took out her magnitudinous red card for me, and I hurled on it. The bloody chunks of undercooked beef and plastic pasta amid hydrochloric acid slid down the card (elevated -15 degrees to the horizontal). As the aforementioned substance dripped onto my plate, a tear and another tear fell on to hers. She said she had tried, she really liked me before, but I am nasty, arrogant, offensive to her, obsessed with trigonometry and amino acids, whereas she is a ‘normal’ girl. I was busy scooping the partially digested tangy beef back up but she continued. She said that she wishes we had something in common but we always argue and it’s better for both of us if we leave it.
I would have let her meet Mr. Deltoid but you know what I really cared about her. I said no I want you, you are a nice girl not a tramp as I have met in the past, but she said you will find others I mean look at you, she asked why some one as hot as I would like a shy girl like her so much. I can’t answer that (well I can but it’s vulgar and inappropriate for such a story) but all I know is I am sitting writing this legendary piece of literature for I have nothing of better to do while listening to the Backstreet Boys and of course the inverse thereof Blackstreet (Don’t Leave Me Girl) and throwing bouncy balls at little babies passing by to expel my rage.
But I asked her so many times why…she said she loved me so many times and I could feel it, she is the type to act as she feels, I could always tell when there was something wrong. But her friends used to drag her away from me; she used to come to my house all the time but I could not be bothered to get up and go to hers or even take her out. Now she is so proud she tells her friends she ‘finished’ me of all people, you know the insanely intelligent and f (x)ing BUFF bishop, whose obliques are more defined than the very 6 pack of Marques Houston. What baffles me is the fact that she called me a horrible arrogant and harsh psycho on the phone. What is she talking about? 