Aug. 17th, 2010

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No idea why, but I remembered this episode from the holidays this morning while making coffee. (The subconscious and its strange ways...)
Janine and I were lying at the pool and reading -- Daniel hadn't yet joined us, lucky boy -- when a movement caught my eye and I looked up at the second floor balconies. They have wooden railings, the planks maybe 10 cm wide, and the spaces between them equally 10cm. Which means you can see through them, and they're only about 1 m high.
On the balcony, totally oblivious -- or so I hope -- of the fact that she was very much visible to pretty much everybody, stood an old lady, I'd say somewhere in her sixties, completely naked, leaning on the railing, arms crossed and ample bosoms spilling across them. It wasn't exactly a pretty sight. I elbowed Janine, she looked up too, and her jaw fell, too.
The same day at dinner, Janine said to the two of us, "What is it with old ladies? Does one lose all one's inhibitions with old age? This afternoon I went past one of them, who was changing out of her wet bathing suit and didn't even try to cover herself up. And she wasn't the one we already know is an exhibitionist, it was a different one! Her tits were all over the place."
Daniel, leaning forward, interested: "Did you give her a nipple twist? That would've taught her."
It was one of the memorable occasions when I burst out into unladylike laughter, so that people at the surrounding tables gave us disapproving looks.

And now, the solemn vow.
*drumroll*
*fanfares*
If I ever, ever again and -- this would be the exception -- without a Very Good Reason Indeed go all gooey over Mr H, please leave a Very Rude Comment Indeed.
The Very Good Reason would be him begging me on bended knee to please, please go out with him. Marriage proposal optional, not obligatory.
I haven't seen him yet in person, but I think the sheer rudeness of the guy has suceeded in putting a damper on my, well, let's call them feelings (it's rather hormones I suspect, but can you dampen hormones? Not sure). He's clearly not away, and he hasn't responded to the email re. hotels or last Wednesday's text message -- even though he's not interested, he might at least show some manners, gorgeous looks and great voice notwithstanding. So it's Piss Off Mr H. Bastard.

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