For the last 3 months swine flu has been a punch line in much the same way bird flu was 3 or 4 years ago. The only thing is, it is a fair bit easier to catch. Sharing an aeroplane with an infected seems to do a good job of spreading it. Or a train. Or a footy match.

Thankfully, I don't make a habit of doing those things. Also in my favour, is that it also seems to have a preference for fatties, much like a good mate of mine from school, Simon. Just like Simon, its pretty difficult to feel threatened by it. Even with a goatee.

Unlike Simon though, who was a notorious piker, it was inevitable that it would turn up somewhere. Even so, I was a bit taken aback when it was announced that someone at work had contracted swine flu. The work policy was just to advise people not to come into work. Its a bit of a shame they specified you have to be sick.

The notification didn't specify who, but word around the watercooler spread faster than the disease, and a Facebook status update pretty much gave the game away. The girl who caught it... well, Simon would be proud to call her his own. I'm talking more than a little curvy. Swine flu is endemic to pigs you know, even in humans.

Which, brings me to my next point. What is it with fatties anyway? I mean, we've all had a dare at the pub, but hardly any of us have had the balls to go there. Here's the thing though, given their hideousness, surely they'd be ashamed. Surely they'd attempt to hide from the world, content in the knowledge that a bacon sandwich will never judge them. They don't though, well not all of them.

I'm talking the alpha fatties. Either blind to their condition, or believing that what they call curves, are sexy (when they are more shapeless squiggles, if anything) they exude self confidence like their meals do saturated fats. Shamelessly, they flaunt their forms in outfits that would normally be used to cover a small car, yet some how reveal more flesh than eyes can ever prepared to see. Skin escaping the cloth's grasp like Play-Doh does a clenched fist. And then they start dancing...

So I ask, where does this self confidence come from? Are they naive enough to think that personalities count? Or is it that their expressions of self-consciousness simply can't escape their own gravitational pull? Are chubby chasers so numerous that they can simply throw on a pair of hot pants and a halterneck top and its a sure thing? Or have they taken the belief that girls seen from a distance often look more attractive than they really are, and then taken that to its logical extreme and set about making themselves visible from low earth orbit?

I just don't understand. I also don't understand why a bloke who is otherwise normal, and perfectly capable of better, will just settle for a fatty. Like, "fuck it, this'll do". Try harder. I mean, aren't they supposed to get fat after you put the ring on the finger? You've kinda jumped the gun there a bit, mate. Or is it some messed up idea of loyalty? Yeah, she's hardly likely to cheat on you with your mates when they can't distinguish her from a first grade Rugby Union player. That said you don't sit in the front row of a cinema just so nobody will steal your seat when you go for a leak. Well, I don't anyway.

Speaking of carry excessive weight, after demonstrating my trailer skills on Wednesday I got roped into towing a few vehicles on the weekend. First up was the Pajero. Time (and salt) has not been kind to it, and the starter motor is completely ruined so we had to push and winch it into place which surprisingly was not as difficult as it was expected to be given it was loaded with engine blocks, gearboxes, differentials and god knows what else. In total it probably weighed 3 tonne, but the Disco didn't have any trouble at all moving it across the suburb. Knowledge that'll surely come in handy if I ever ironically end up with a fatty as a girlfriend.

Next up was Gene's (spare) Toyota Sera. Reversing the trailer was a bit more of a challenge, and neighbours were upset when I selfishly left just two car widths for them to drive through on the street, but loading the Sera was a breeze thanks to a gravity assist.

Finally, it was a Daihatsu Mira. With no engine. Or front wheels. It was as easy as it sounds to load onto a trailer. With four of us we were eventually able to man handle it into position and then noisily drag it (via winch) onto the trailer with complete disregard for chassis rails and paint work. Removing it from the trailer at its destination was even worse. With time, light and patience running out and thoughts already on beers afterwards an idea was proposed. The idea being to hook a snatch strap to the front tow point of the Mira, and then to the tow ball of the parked Pajero, and then removing the trailer from beneath it. Pretty simple idea, like pulling a table cloth. Haha yeah, it was that easy. With a few ungodly noises, and the Pajero being dragged backwards despite its handbrake, the Mira finally let go and started sliding down the ramps, half way down it jumped off the ramps, dragged the underbody and crashed onto the ground, thankfully landing the right way up. We laughed.

And then we bought some beers and ordered curries. The curries were rad, they skimped on meat a bit, but the basmati made up for it. So awesome.

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