Derren's become something of a fixture in our relationship. I took Lisa to see his first tour two weeks before I asked her out (it's where I learnt the mind control techniques to make her say yes), and followed it up a year later by celebrating our first anniversary with his second tour. The man's no fool, so he's trying to avoid us this time by not bringing his third tour to Brighton, but fortunately Lisa's noticed I can drive, and bought me two tickets for the Worthing show. Which is very kind of her. It's not until the end of March, so I've got plenty of time to decide who I'm going to take.
On the subject of Valentine's Day, I'm pleased to announce that the pound shop in North Street has unveiled its range of romantic gifts. They seem to be trying to corner the more seedy end of the market this year, but at a pound a go, you can't complain. I was tempted by the animal-shaped posing pouches which bark like a dog, and the 'orgasm on a keyring' (I didn't dare press the button), but the items which really made me wish I hadn't already got Lisa's present, were the romantic outfits for adults. I was torn between the French Maid's ensemble (one size fits all, apparently) and the Policeman's uniform, which didn't seem to consist of much more than a truncheon and a pair of handcuffs. But most useful would have been the Nurse's outfit. I've got an interview for a job at the hospital on Wednesday, and it seemed like a good way to prepare.

Lisa measured 8.1cm, placing her within one millimetre of the average for a woman, which is apparently 8cm. The male average is 9.3cm, so any reading between about 9 and 9.5 would make us both digitally compatible and finger-lickin' good. Unfortunately I measured 7.6cm.
I said "I'm amazed I can play the guitar". Lisa replied "I'm amazed you can hold a pen". Then she told me I had the fingers of a dwarf, and went to bed.
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