Monday, October 16, 2006

News Flash

Years ago when I was doing an amazingly good impersonation of a skanky ho, I met up with a chap and one thing led to another and into the bedroom we went. There were boxes of special sound equipment stacked up in two corners...a pile of newspapers in another...a corner filled with what could only have been dirty laundry, and the bed was a single mattress on the floor in the centre of the room.

Before I stepped foot into this man's house I wondered what the hell I was doing. That was my conscience speaking. The whole place stunk of the fish he'd cooked the night happens, I chose to get over that. The kitchen was filthy, dishes stacked on the bench, spilling over into the sink. I chose to be blind to that.

He was a tall, good looking, son of a bitch, I was horny and ready to jump his the shallow skanky part of my mind told me loudly that's all I needed to focus on...although his hygiene or possible lack of it, was now taking up a large part of my thoughts. Fortunately for me, he smelled good and felt clean. I suspect that he hoped he might be 'in' at some stage, and had the decency to shower before leaving home.

Long story cut short...onto the bed we go...clothes are being shed...there's panting and groaning, heaving bosom stuff an' all that...rah rah, go skank go! He then gets off the mattress, comes back across the room to me as he's unfolding a newspaper and says...

"Lift up?"
"Lift up your bum for a sec?"
"Uh, why?..."
"I just want to put this...
"What are you doing??"
"...under you, so you don't get any on the bed."

My libido soared out the dirty window.

*spitting now*

HE would rather have had MY arse imprinted with yesterday's headlines, than let any er, well that other stuff, touch his precious fucking mattress! He needn't have pussy had a miraculous change of heart and became the Sahara Desert.

Trying to be polite, I looked at the only thing that had survived the mad rush of getting naked as quickly as possible. "Oh...I didn't realise how late it was" (*snort*)..."I really must get going....If you don't mind, could you drop me back at my car now please?" After a small debate as to whether I should leave or not, he finally conceded defeat and dropped me off at the car. Which means I drove home...which also means I was sober. See? I didn't have to be pissed to the gills to act stupidly, I just went around doing it automatically.

God, when I think back to those few months in my life it makes me shudder. I appeared to be forever putting myself into dumb and dangerous situations, deliberately. I was on some kinda kami-kaze fuck fest I think. Anything I felt was the opposite to what others knew me to be on the outside...the rebel in me strutted forward with a vengeance. In the process of doing so, the only thing I proved, was what a complete and utter idiot I was.

I didn't look like a know what I mean...I see girls out there these days wearing something resembling tiny hankerchiefs that would only serve as an eye patch for me. I still behaved properly so to speak and dressed accordingly...until noone was looking, then I turned into a naughty, empty-headed replica of myself.

This post has been brought on by a conversation I had with one of my best friends over the phone yesterday. I was hooting with laughter at an embarrassing predicament she found herself in last week (and she wasn't even naked, what's up with that??)...and she came back at me with..."Well, at least there wasn't a newspaper involved."

*choke, sputter* "Bitch" *sputter, choke*

This is not the first time she's hurled those words at me over the years. I always end up gasping and turning bright red with the memory. The desired outcome is to shut me the hell up. that the whole friggin' world is aware of the newspaper incident, can we forget the whole damn thing ever happened??...enough is enough...let's put it to rest now...go on, there's a good mate....Please?!

Besides, you know I got just as much juice on you lol
(and don't ya'll be taking that the wrong way!)
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