So, there is that guy who rang two weeks ago. He said that Hendrix is in Manly village, running like crazy. As he does. It was my turn to run now. I found him playing with an old lady. No guy around. Next day, same story....and then the fence got fixed. Last Saturday, the guy called again to tell me that Hendrix was in the village...again. I looked around. Hendrix was next to me, chewing my book. Sunday he called again. This time he asked for my name. Just in case. Again I looked around and here he was, the crazy Hendrix, just eating my pink high heels. Seriously? So I just told the guy that he can keep Hendrix next time he sees him in the village. Because there won't be a next.
So, let's just have a toast for an idiot! I don't want to go so far as Kanye West would, but this is exactly what I'm thinking. Do you want to know who I am? Try harder!
Who am I? That's one secret I'll never tell! :)
Yours in fitness