Aye-va-low-gah-coogh?

How’s your progress on correctly pronouncing the name of the Icelandic volcano that’s causing trouble in Europe’s airspace? Despite quite a lot of effort and discussion, I’m still at square one but decided to always end my mangled attempts with an ass slap and a whistle because presentation is very important.

Last weekend I came as close to doing the splits as I ever hope to and as a result, my hips are so sore I can barely walk. You see I was cleaning my bathroom and in an effort to make it really shine, stepped into the tub to give the porcelain the business. Once I’d finished my frenzied scrubbing, no doubt high from Tilex fumes, I casually stepped out of the tub and watched helplessly as my wet foot slipped further and further away from my body while my other foot remained cluelessly in the tub. I kept thinking surely my loins would signal when they’d reached their limit but instead, my apparently amenable body resigned to its fate and stopped only when my crotch hovered mere inches above the ground. After waiting for the judges’ scores, I collapsed into a heap on the bathroom floor. Abby remained nearby, not even batting an eyelash as she’s so accustomed to my frequent pratfalls. The upshot is that as word of my limberness spreads, I suspect I’ll be getting asked out on a lot more dates. My terlet splits bring all the boys to the yard!

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