An article came up this week that had me busting seams immediately. I felt bad about laughing - for about half a cannoli.
"Floor collapses at Weight Watchers meeting"
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/
"A floor collapsed beneath a group of about 20 members of Weight Watchers as they gathered to compare how many pounds they had shed over Christmas. "
Uh-oh. Looks like someone's point counter took the holidays off!
It reminds me of my favorite new t-shirt.
"“We suddenly heard a huge thud – we almost thought it was an earthquake and everything flew up in the air. The floor collapsed in one corner of the room and along the walls,” one of the those present told the Smålandsposten newspaper. "
It sounded like an earthquake? Well they would know!
I can barely imagine what it sounded like when they all tried to leave at once!
"[The 20 attendees] abandoned the room as the floor started to give way in other areas."
That's an awful lot of 'hustle'. Or waddle.
It might be easier to be nicer if they didn't rush this story through the oven half-baked, leaving soooo much to the imagination,
"No one was injured in the incident, the cause of which is being investigated."
Leaving that kind of shrink-wrapped bait in front of me is a deep-fried sugar-coated gravy-smothered invitation to misanthropy! Because, I used to be there, fifty pounds ago. And I got away not by sitting in a circle of long-suffering overloaded folding chairs trading excuses with other cyclically depressed chemical energy storage vessels. I did it with:
