… that if butts were people, I’d be on a first name basis with the one attached to the girl who owns the tanning salon next to the Subway at which I’ve accrued 608 points, because without fail she’s always standing outside her business, talking on a cordless phone, and puffing on a cigarette while facing away from me.

If this butt had a name, I think it would be Francine, and all her butt-friends would call her Frannie, and on the weekends they would all get together and drink Miller High-Life while playing bridge.