![I Believe... [No New Pants]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1573961997415-7JJXMVJ16SPTAVF68UGP/075304D1-A2A2-4895-9A38-9E4D29C55A60.jpeg)
I Believe... [No New Pants]
…that I no longer care so much about my diet or exercise so much as I just don’t want to have to buy new pants.
Diet Plan for People Who Don’t Move
And you wanted to get skinny, this year! How come that strong, construction worker at he oasis is carrying a whole bag of “Donette Gems” to his car and he’s not fat yet?
Why come that is?
Anyway, look at yourself. Fat. Me too. You should see me. I tripped on my pecs this morning and here I lay on the bathroom floor, writing for Literate Ape (which takes absolutely no talent or energy; just the ability to ignore loved ones).
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.