Solo Transport Timez And Defecation During Labour
Last night I went out to Transport. I accosted some a girl as she walked past.
“Hi!” I said, as if I knew her, a habit from my days of promoting charities in shopping centres.
“Hey!” she responded, in a European accent.
“I’m Jones.”
“Anya. I can’t shake your hand because mine are wet.”
“Wow, you’re gross… You’re from Germany,” I said.
“Ja.”
“Guten Abend. Warum ist die Banane krumm?” which means “Good evening. Why is the banana crooked?” That’s about the extent of my German.
“Uh yeah… anyway I have to go find my friends now.”
“Nooo your friends can wait. How can you leave me now, when our loveship is merely blossoming? Can’t you see the potential in my eyes? Don’t you know what greatness awaits us?” I said to the space where she had been standing, as she was about twenty metres away by this stage. I chuckled to myself.
Then I went to talk to a couple of girls. I stayed and chatted to them for a while. One of them was studying to be a paramedic.
“So what would you do if a woman was about to have a baby?”
“Depends, has the water broken?”
“Let’s say, yes.”
“In that case, you have less than half an hour until the baby comes so it’s best not to try to take her to the hospital. You have to deliver the baby right there. It can be very messy towards the end of the labour. The woman has to push really hard and she will probably urinate, defecate…”
“Uh huh…”
They went home. Then some other stuff happened.
I met a girl, and it was going great. Then twenty minutes into the conversation, I realised she looked like my ex-girfriend. Bummer. Then I realised she had bigger boobs than my ex-girlfriend. Win!
