Some people leave footprints on our heart.
Cats leave fur on our sweaters.
Dogs leave drool on our shoes.
Families will crap on our doorstep.
So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
MY VALENTINE
I can't remember where I picked him up. Somewhere along the Internet and filed for a rainy day. I think I'd like to grow young with him. Next post is about fossils which he isn't. This post is labelled 'Fantasy' and I'm his.
don't be silly - the type who is lolling about in reverie a change-room after dance class is going to be more of a Taker than a Giver, very dull in the daylight and too dumb to go home by dawn. Try a vision of Mr Muscles From Work not Working-Out, wearing Blunnies, Stubbies and a tool-belt while swinging from the top of an extension-ladder. He will go home by midnight every time.
Don't rush it Jacob, you don't want to ruin your looks with debauching too early in life.
Annie, the only vision I got then was 'builder's crack'. I don't want my playthings to think, just loll about looking pretty and saving their energy. Anyway he's absolutely the last photo I have of youthful lust. It's just the Hughes and Sedgwicks of life now.
There used to be advert on the telly showing a bloke rather like this one working out in a gym. After he's finished he steps through the door and smacks his head on the lintel, accompanied by the words 'Take your brain for a run'.
Jealous? No... Disillusioned by the way in which women after fighting so long and hard for equal rights are now behaving in the same sexist manner that lecherous old men have always behaved? Probably...
Anyhow, my pectorals are honed to perfection, if you like your flesh tender and in plentiful supply that is...
Old women are never lecherous, we are discerning, Fleetwood. I suppose at one time you did have a body women would want to lick clean but now we'd just throw you a dishcloth.
Thank you Oz, I'll be waiting by my front gate to grab the towell.
My body's always been perfect (in as much as a jelly-mould is an excellent shape to be). It's just that nowadays there's more of it to share.
As for being that bloke's fantasy...the only fancy that takes men who spend twenty-four hours a day in the gym involves other mens' dangly bits and/or images of themself. You might have your work cut out a bit there...
Witchy, if you broke both his arms off your date would be ruined. For a start, he wouldn't be able to work out how much bus fare he needed because he couldn't count up to ten any more.
I can't remember where I picked him up. Somewhere along the Internet and filed for a rainy day. I think I'd like to grow young with him. Next post is about fossils which he isn't. This post is labelled 'Fantasy' and I'm his.
15 comments:
DAY-UM!
Jacob, drooling is so unattractive.
AND HE'S MINE MINE MINE.
Damn young pretty gay boys on the prowl. You should be home watching tele.
"I can't remember where I picked him up."
Somewhere near the top end of his own colon, I suspect...
If I was pretty I would probably be doing something more debaucherous than trawling the internerds on a Saturday night.
don't be silly - the type who is lolling about in reverie a change-room after dance class is going to be more of a Taker than a Giver, very dull in the daylight and too dumb to go home by dawn.
Try a vision of Mr Muscles From Work not Working-Out, wearing Blunnies, Stubbies and a tool-belt while swinging from the top of an extension-ladder.
He will go home by midnight every time.
Jealous, Fleetwood.
Don't rush it Jacob, you don't want to ruin your looks with debauching too early in life.
Annie, the only vision I got then was 'builder's crack'. I don't want my playthings to think, just loll about looking pretty and saving their energy. Anyway he's absolutely the last photo I have of youthful lust. It's just the Hughes and Sedgwicks of life now.
Ohh, Ann likes them rough! Good choice Jah Teh. He looks a bit post coital.
Andrew, I bow to your superior knowledge of post coitals.
There used to be advert on the telly showing a bloke rather like this one working out in a gym. After he's finished he steps through the door and smacks his head on the lintel, accompanied by the words 'Take your brain for a run'.
Jealous? No... Disillusioned by the way in which women after fighting so long and hard for equal rights are now behaving in the same sexist manner that lecherous old men have always behaved? Probably...
Anyhow, my pectorals are honed to perfection, if you like your flesh tender and in plentiful supply that is...
Poor kid... looks like someone has nicked all his gear out of his locker and now he's going to have to walk home in nowt but that towel.
That's what I see when I look at that picture....
Old women are never lecherous, we are discerning, Fleetwood. I suppose at one time you did have a body women would want to lick clean but now we'd just throw you a dishcloth.
Thank you Oz, I'll be waiting by my front gate to grab the towell.
Witchy,
My body's always been perfect (in as much as a jelly-mould is an excellent shape to be). It's just that nowadays there's more of it to share.
As for being that bloke's fantasy...the only fancy that takes men who spend twenty-four hours a day in the gym involves other mens' dangly bits and/or images of themself. You might have your work cut out a bit there...
Dear Fleetwood, if I broke his arms off he'd look just like a Roman statue. And what makes you think I couldn't straighten out a bend in any bloke.
Witchy, if you broke both his arms off your date would be ruined. For a start, he wouldn't be able to work out how much bus fare he needed because he couldn't count up to ten any more.
After me, he wouldn't be capable of busing anywhere but you're right about the arms, he'll need at least one.
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