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I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else My Profile
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Don't you just hate it when you think you are having a private conversation to find out you are being listened into? I had such an incidence of violation over the weekend when we went to play at the swings. It's a bit like finding out someone I don't like is reading my blog. Like people who already despise me need more amo to hate me, like these people really need to read my rants on jumbo puss and oblong turds. Anyway. I don't really have many qualms about talking about anything to people, as long as it's a conscious choice to do so. However, I was in the toilet of a redneck pub the other day and was loudly chatting about how laughing hard can make you fart and when it does it comes out at a terrible speed. I wondered why my usually uncontrollable counterpart was only stiffling sniggers two cubicles down. Blissfully unaware of Mrs High Hair's presence outside, I carried on yelling and making vile, immature fart noises as I mopped up and flushed away. It was only when I swung open the heavily graffitied door that I came face to face with tapered jeans, slingbacks, a very heightened perm and a lip so curled it was hard to know where it ended and perm started. I have never been so ashamed. Actually I am sure I have. But I have never moved so quickly in my life. But not quick enough to miss the little peep that squeaked out of Mrs I Would So Never Fart. And not even quick enough to miss the little giggle that came after it. Why? Why do people in public toilets giggle when they guff? Is it an attempt to hide their embarrassment at having let go so publicly and audibly (cause let's face it, the echo caused by split cheeks on the bog is loud enough for the gents down the corridor to overhear)? Is it to demonstrate the fact that although they farted like a drunken curry bummed man, that they are still a dainty little lady? Whatever the reason, it bugs the shit outta me. I heard you fart. I don't need to hear you giggle to try and make me forget the fact you just dropped a whopper. Anyway, I'm talking about farts. My weekend did consist of more entertaining things but I don't have the ability to make them sound as interesting as they were and so I'm resorted to talking pluffs. Again.
And so I got to try and solve the mystery of how on earth I managed to put on 2 pairs of pants today. Britney Wannabe 
2/25/2003 02:04:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
