Saturday, December 12, 2009

Roberta, pick me I am on Spacebook. I love you, you are so fit and sexy, what a body, let me at it.

"Who are you, Terrence Typobull Man, by any chance? Do you think you have a chance with Roberta, she is the hottest spacerobot princess in New York, what have you got to offer her?", I asked Terence from the Pace Gallery window on 25th Street and 11th Ave.

He gave me a pathetic wee bullish roar, and spun his wheel and tapped his feet. "It has been a bull market and I am very good at stocks and shares, I can help her make money so she and I both can escape these lousy gallery jobs with the hideous long hours and I can whisk her off to freedom and help her find a good mechanic to get her legs and arm back again. I think she would love that . Ok I am not so hot looking but I am smart and loyal and my eyes are only for her, my Roboqueen," he sighed with a lovelorn look in his wooly eyes.

Why are the rich clever nice adoring ones always geeky? It seems the Robogals face the same problems we have.

"Look Terence, I think you have a chance, shave your beard, work out a bit, get on Spacebook and befriend her and take it from there. In every cool chic there is a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued, I like that angle, it is fresh. You have got a chance, if you just do what I say and whatever you do don't dare roar at any other gals, Roberta hates that and look what happened to Roger."

He nodded in agreement, wisely, his woolly eyes sparkling with hope and fervour to get his gal. Now why can't I get that kind of enthusiasm from the dopes I meet.






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