My thanks to one D G McPherson from Lower the Hutt* who wrote listing my inaction, several times in fact, often fluctuating between threats if I don’t post soon, ridiculous claims of having “boned 500 hot babes” whilst I hadn’t and the occasional candid Polaroid, which was a nice touch I thought.
It’s not like I haven’t had anything to write, because you know me, I always do.
Case in point, the girl I know who has just got married and whose new husband has taken her last name as well as his. Which is fine, I can talk, I did something similar. But hers is hyphenated on account of her parents having done the same thing so now the dude has three last names...
Now all emasculation jokes aside, that’s not really right is it? And don’t even get me started on the guy at work who took his wife’s last name and replaced his completely.
But for all round awkwardness you can’t beat the encounter I had across the road the other day with a neighbour, the father of a boy that Junior that hangs out with on occasion and who met me at the door with what looked for all the world, like an erection in his track pants.
Not as in a ‘hang your coat on this’ tent types, but more one of those ones you tuck to the side in the hope that by the time you make it to the front door from your bedroom it would’ve disappeared.
Only it didn’t and here I am, almost a month later, not sure what was the more disturbing; the fact that it hadn’t or that he shook my hand when he got there. And what was he doing in the bedroom to get one whilst three teenage boys were in the house anyway?!
And to think this all came about because some inconsiderate prick had parked his car on the opposite side of our tight little road, directly across from our driveway meaning I couldn’t reverse into it without conducting a 73 point turn.
The driveway that is, because backing into his motor would’ve been dead easy and the day the passion wagon finally gives up the ghost I am going to bumper boat the shit out of his and every other poorly parked ride.
So, forced to park ours further up the road I had done so in front of Mr Inappropriate Arousal’s house. I had gone up to the door to tell him that if it was in the way I would move it but then I’m old school like that; I respect the unwritten rule that says although technically the front of house parking space is free to all, it remains the domain of the geezer in said gaff.
Note that nowhere in that particular gentlemen’s agreement does it mention that it’s ever cool to come to the door with a semi.
Maybe the real reason for my absence (not to be confused with abstinence but there’s every chance it’s to blame for that too) is the trauma of having witnessed that. Now if I really could time travel I think I’d rewind that particular clock and complete that 73 point turn...
*Lower, the skanky sister of Upper the Hutt, cousins of Jabba and distant relatives of the most famous of all The Hutts; Pizza.
Very creative DG Macca, very creative.
