A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets.
Yes, so far January is sucking. Summer finally kicked in last night - that was fun. I love months of being to damn hot to sleep properly.The only drunk I really like is myself. Everyone else is such a fuckwit after a few drinks whereas I improve in all ways...
I LOVE fireworks. I hate drunks.I don't bother making resolutions.January would be fine if it wasn't for the HEAT.February and March, with the HUMIDITY, oh my god!! I could DIE!!Bring on the winter already.
Grump! Ok, the pot calling the kettle vermilion.
My ex's birthday was Dec24 so it was at least Jan2 before he was sober. Thank you for reminding me how revolting it was to sleep next to some sweaty drunk. Nails, I don't see how you could improve on your natural effervescent sober self.River, I could never live in Northern Australia, the humidity would kill me and I see Adelaide has had three days of over 40 degree heat. I don't care about my carbon footprint when the tempt hits the heights. Mind you we should think of Lord Hughes in England, temp there was expected in the minus range.
Andrew, you poor dear, you had to work in this heat. I bet your air-con is going full blast tonight.
"Mind you we should think of Lord Hughes in England, temp there was expected in the minus range."It generally is. Mind you, it is mid-winter at the moment, which is what New Year is all about really...that old pagan, mid winter feast. It's got sod all to do with the Christian calander. I could never understand how, if Jesus was born on Christmas Day, the New Year didn't happen until a week later. That'd mean he was born in A.D. 0000, minus one week. Clever, even by the Virgin Mary's standards, that one. Then I realised that the reason for the chronological hiccough was that Christianity was all bollocks.Personally I hate fireworks. I hate New Year resolutions. I hate Hogmany. I hate drunken revellers at midnight. And most of all I hate the news reports the following morning informing us that everyone was celebrating around the world. Including the lazy reporters, presumably, all partying like thirteen tossers at the lisence payers' expense.I wasn't partying myself.I'm a grumpy old Hector and proud of it.
Sorry...that should have read 'thirteen year old' tossers...not just 'thirteen' tossers. Although the original comment probably had a New Year's Day touch of surrealism about it...
So, how do I find you on FB with several pages of JT's?Any hints?
I'm under my real name which the bastards are considering whether they'll let me change it to Jah Teh. I don't want undesirables to find me, like ex-husband or his fat wife or half the Royal Australian Navy, misspent youth you know.Fleetwood, it sounded better the first time and what a great name for a blog. What do you mean, you hate revellers or is it just the contempt for amateur drinkers?
The only month I hate more than January is February because if possible its always hotter and more awful I was born in Feb as was a younger sister...our poor mum ...no fans even in the house and this was inland where even the cloth on the lounge chair was warm to touch by 9 o colck in the morning...she must have nearly gone crazy... bought three new fans yeaterday...reduced from $60 each to $14 ... a bastard to put together but heaven to sit in front of...Hate drunks also , except for myself...but can't get drunk these days... I just get tired long before drunk kicks in...s'no fun at all
By revellers I refer to those cretins who reel down the streets in the small hours singing football songs and keeping everyone awake. Personally I prefer to stew in my own front room in front of the fire, hurl abuse at the news coverage and eventually fall asleep with a cat on my head, disturbing nobody but myself.
I remember going back to school in February and it was always the hottest day. Therese, an ice pack on the back of the neck is great for cooling down, or stacks of ice in the booze.I knew you had a redeeming feature, Fleetwood, I can just see the cat asleep on your head. As long as you're wearing your flea collar.
Front Line Spot On...it's quick, painless and highly effective. No need for flea collars that get caught in branches and choke 'em to death or that horrible spray stuff that they feel an urge to lick and always end up frothing at the mouth with. One simple drop of 'Front Line' on the back of the neck where they can't get to it, and the fleas all head off for Yorkshire where they belong.
middle child, at least February is always the shortest month of the year!You must hate leap years ...
I stay in to keep away from the revellers/drunks/whatevers also ... I have a peep at the fireworks but I wouldn't mind if they weren't on either.I like making resolutions. It's the keeping of them that's not so much fun. Depending on what I resolved.
I hate fireworks too - because stupid people go 'out' to watch them and leave their cats and dogs loose in the yard where they get a fright from all the boom-boom and run away.I've been in London in January.They don't get any daylight.and it was minus -six degrees.I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
PS I came here from orange Juice Snobbery.She has photos of beautiful cakes
Cakes? Maria has cakes, pardon me I have drooling to do.
"I didn't know whether to laugh or cry."I've been to London a grand total of three times in my existence. Laughing and crying didn't enter into it. Barfing at the foulness of it all seemed more appropriate.
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