are you wearing shorts?

hot day saturday, first day without my little man. was walking the streets with a big smile, all carefree styles. a man said to me. 'your hair is amazing. don't it get hot'. it reminded me of why i love annie so. we was walking down brunswick street a couple weeks ago and a guy said something like" i love your hair" it's long and naturally blonde. but my lovely lady goes strait back at him... 'it's not real' ha ha ha. we laughed all the way home.

the random comments i get. my favourite one so far is, 'are you wearing shorts?' uh yeah. also, riding my bike in a skirt 'i saw your undies' congratulations you win a prize. i like 'yr husband's a lucky man'.

anyways, back to saturaday. i slept in the evening, woke up at 11 and went down to the tote. to see the bird blobs. waking up at night and going out is one of my favourite things. but there is something fundamentally wrong about waking up and going to a packed hot sweaty rock show in the filthiest pub on a hot filthy night to drink out of a can. i had the devil in me. which means i want to make trouble, and i will. but my attitude got progressively worse through the night. i wanted to dance, i wanted a party but nobody was doing it for me. not for me. they were all boring cunts every where i went. so it made sense to me when i got home and a boy pointed out to me that my undies were on inside out. no wonder nothing could please me. no wonder it wasn't my night. it wasn't them, it was me.

yep flieshy. take it from me. not a thing will please you if you got yr undies on wrong.