The Portuguese In Me

I wrote the title then realized how it looked. So FYI - this is not about MPM and his whereabouts re my orifices. I was actually meaning that there's definitely a little Portuguese in me somewhere. It's a food thing.

I've put weight on, a lá too much Portuguese food. Not a lot but it's there. So I'm going to lose it.

From now on - I'm going to run the 3 minute walk that gets me to the Metro.


Returned to edit - too lazy to repost.

Scene - I'm buggering about, i-pod firmly implanted. Singing. MPM looks at me.


Me: I'm sorry - I can't sing very well.

MPM: You can't sing. Period.

Moral: love is blind. But it sure ain't deaf.

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