So I was going to go and see the plastic surgeon about my little deposit of fat under my chin. I tried to explain it to her and she asked me if I had a TURKEY GOBBLER! A freaking TURKEY GOBBLER? WTF is that? So I made an appointment and listened to the lady tell me how I would have to be fitted for a "garment" and wear it for a week and I had a bit of pizza last night and the cheese gave me bad dreams and I dreamt about a really BAD plastic surgeon who had his music really loud to muffle the sounds of screaming, and I honest to god dreamt about old ladies getting liposuctioned in such a scary manner that I woke up and phoned and cancelled. Phew.
I also couldn't really imagine going into work with one of those masks you get when you play that game with swords, the name of which I cannot remember at the moment. Fencing. That's it. I mean, I was planning a wee white lie, that I fell over whilst running, but really, who is going to believe that when I turn up with a mummified version of myself. So I think the turkey gobbler stays and maybe when I am fifty they will have developed some marvellous cream that you apply to your turkey gobbler and it goes away. I am sure that is possible. Then you go home with a free unicorn. I really shouldn't have had that cheese last night.
I also couldn't really imagine going into work with one of those masks you get when you play that game with swords, the name of which I cannot remember at the moment. Fencing. That's it. I mean, I was planning a wee white lie, that I fell over whilst running, but really, who is going to believe that when I turn up with a mummified version of myself. So I think the turkey gobbler stays and maybe when I am fifty they will have developed some marvellous cream that you apply to your turkey gobbler and it goes away. I am sure that is possible. Then you go home with a free unicorn. I really shouldn't have had that cheese last night.
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