Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die. If you’re lucky.
#fedi22
At a minimum I’d expect:
Flirting is all about observation and escalation. Flirting is a game of fun, it is not seduction. You do it to entertain and entice, not to get your end away.
You start with a comment, or joke, or double entendre. If your flirtee responds in kind then you progress and maybe escalate a little with another comment or joke or double entendre. What’s most important, though is the observation. If your flirtee backs down then you fucking back down too. If your flirtee misses the cue then you back down. If you’re not sure, you back down.
Sarcasm is, like, totally for losers.
Poop knife life?
Fuck off you sanctimonious prick. I’m rewilding.
recorded my singing with an old cassette recorder
Hmm, perhaps this is the key. I sing a lot, in the car, or the shower, or when no-one is around, so I get practice in but I don’t (can’t) hear what I’m singing properly.
Owning a proper lawn-momer like the one my dad had. A proper petrol, cylinder mower like this one:
I bought a refurbished on from eBay. Sadly my lawn is too shitty and bumpy to use it, so I just use a Honda IZY which does a perfectly good job but it’s not like the one my dad had.
A half-decent singing voice.
To illustrate how bad my singing is: our school did a musical every year. One year it was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. The music department set up auditions. First they did a speaking audition, after which I was short-listed for Joseph. Then they did the singing audition. I ended up being ‘one of the brothers, the one who doesn’t really sing anything’.
I don’t even want to be an awesome singer, just be able to carry a tune recognisably.
Mine are all pretty mild.
Everyone reading all the time at home. Pretty much every room had bookcases, full to bursting with books. When I was old enough to have friends around they all said how weird it was to have so many books.
My parents were really emotionally distant. I don’t recall either of them telling them they loved me - or each other for that matter. No hugs or kisses. More than one of my girlfriends called me an emotional cripple.
Home-cooked food every night. We never ate out, never had takeaway. My mum was a great cook though so although my friends seemed to think it was weird I’d never had a MacDonalds when I finally did try it I didn’t understand the hype.
Oh, and the poop knife, of course.
Your daughters are all the same colour and shape?
7-Zark-7
I can do this all day!
~Chosen specialist subject.~
Shitting biscuits!
Foamy gushing twat!
Wank spanner!
Rancid gobstopper!
Juicy fat ballsack!
Piss on a stick!
Sloppy jizz mop!
Spunky pus bucket!
Steaming shit stain!
Thirsty cock gobbler!
Greasy prick spasm!
Fuck a duck!
Crusty cum sock!
William H. tap-dancing Macy on a motherfucking motorcycle!
Retching cunt nugget!
Flacid spunk sock!
Mouldy knob cheese!
Pint of shart!
Gaping arse sleeve!
Pus-filled pussy pocket!
“What kind of career strategy was ‘go with the flow’, old man? Oh, but it worked out ok? Good to know.”
1980s personal computer. ASDF was standard for a lot of games on it.
Did you own a spectrum?
Invert Y-Axis
The sound of an English country garden on a Sunday in summer.
This is a composite of several sounds all of which must be quiet or distant enough to not be a distraction but which in conjunction are glorious:
$29.73