This morning I received a startling communication. From the guy who (once) chopped some wood for me. It told of his yearning to fondle my naked form, to press his…oh well let’s not go into it. Now what I’d like to know is – do you reckon any woman would say ‘Sure, come on over!’ to this kind of overture? Have you ever (as a man) made one and scored a hit? Personally, even if it was Aidan Turner and not a portly bloke in a singlet, I would decline (in Aidan’s case, regretfully).
Moving along. Right wing. Left wing. Do they mean anything anymore? I used to think not…but now I’m inclined to think one’s political leanings are pretty revealing.
If you’re on the left wing, you think the government should look after people. If you’re on the right, you think people need to look after their damn selves.
Now the problem with the left is learned helplessness. Pretty soon, everyone feels entitled, bugger this self-reliance shit. And the problem with the right is that, well, not everyone can look after themselves. I’m inclined to feel that the left is essentially more caring, the right more pragmatic – am I right?
Anyways…if you went into politics, how long do you think it’d be before someone pulled a skeleton out of your closet and shoved it under your nose? For me, it’d be no time at all. All the revealing things I’ve said on Facebook…not to mention my blog, and my books! Well I guess that’s the end of my bid for Supreme Power. Just out of interest, would you vote for an ex-prostitute? I would. I’ve never seen anything immoral about being a prostitute (just dispiriting). On the other hand I’d never vote for a Hillsong member.
And that’s another thing. Can anyone pinpoint the exact moment when one turns into an old dear? Is it when you cut your hair and rinse it purple? Is it when you wear support stockings…or view stairs with the same misgivings as a Dalek? I don’t mind being characterised as ‘old’ (if I’d been 80 instead of 57, I’m betting the woodchopper would have kept his deathless prose to himself). It’s when it starts messing with all my other essential characteristics that I have a problem. Dear? Sour more like.
And here is a story about slugs. It has to be 4000 words, and finely edited, by tomorrow, so any suggestions are warmly welcomed.