Here’s lookin at you kid...

I have this issue with the way I look, well, many issues really: that I look way too serious, and that I am starting to look way too much like my father; but the one issue that really plagues me is: am I a good looking person?

I know, I know, “vanity writing much?” I hear you moan, but that’s not my point. I really don’t know. I take a really, really terrible photo. There are hardly any photos of me in existence that don’t make me look like a dumb bogan or an airhead stoner type. As a kid, I was always a mongy looking boy: fell off a water tank when I was crazy young, so most photos of me as a child have this pained look from my front teeth. I was way too lanky and generally badly dressed and had crooked eyes, but that all started to change when I was about 14-15 years old. But I don’t know how or to what. I started to get instant aesthetic cred, which I still get, but I have no idea what that means.

I have never been a very visual person, having bad eyesight would probably be the cause of that, But cruising around the place, I do get a high level of cred in most situations (you know what I mean) and always have. I know that there is some sort of visual thing going on with me, but I don’t know what that is. I generally get by a lot on looks and charm than on real substance (which I have plenty of too...ba da chaa), but this may well just be the way of the world and nothing to do with me intrinsically. Then there are many other occasions where things have been obvious in a way, but I really don’t know why or exactly what that means. One thought that comes to mind is my academic credibility was once doubted by a minxy old law professor on the reasoning that “god doesn’t give with both hands”. Maybe she was just weird. But I still look in the mirror and see this mongy looking little boy with sore teeth.

I am always amazed by the difference between when I duck into Woolies or somewhere on a weekend, with a couple of kids in tow, compared to when I duck into pick up something on the way home from work, all dolled up in city clothes with no kids. I am not sure the difference between the two situations in the eyes of strangers, I am the same person, just that the appearance that I give produces such a different result. But the huge difference that I have noticed recently is due to me having a black eye.

I have been a sick little boy lately; have had a lung infection that has led to serious coughing fits that for a few days led me to vomit due to gag reflexes being engaged. One night, while rushing for the toilet, I took that last corner at speed and too soon and bang, right in the eye I tells ya... The result was a severely badass looking black eye. I don’t think I have ever had a black eye before. Not that I remember anyway, but the result of walking around with one is just phenomenal. People who are usually a little flirty and over-the-top treated me like I had  the plague. It was amazing. I never realised what a visual and fickle world we live in. I was really concerned for a while that people would remember this (I live in a smaller town) and as a result this would be permanent, but no, as the black eye faded, the giggly flirtiness returned in full form. I must admit I am rather taken by the whole thing. It’s not that I’m up my own butt about this type of thing, just nice to be appreciated aesthetically. But it still doesn’t adequately answer my question.

By the way, sorry I haven’t been here in a while. I have been very sick and my uncle died...been a bad week really.

This post’s Lame Joke: A fireman came home from work one day and told his wife that he wanted his sex life to run like his work life: all ordered exactly and working on command.

“At work, everything is ordered according to bells, everyone knows their place and does their job. Bell one, he said, means you have thirty seconds to get into the bedroom. Bell two means you should be completely naked and then finally bell three means it’s time to fxxx like rabbits.”

The wife duly agrees, seeing nothing wrong with this new arrangement.

Later on that night, the fireman decided that it was time to try out his new routine.

He yelled out “Bell One.”

Instantly his wife was eagerly awaiting him in the boudoir.

She was completely naked and looking saucily at him as he yelled “Bell Two”

As he yelled “Bell Three,” his wife jumped on top of him and pounded him into the bed time and time again.

After about a minute, the fireman’s wife yelled out “Bell Four, Bell Four!!!”

“Bell Four? There is no Bell Four. What does that mean?” asked the fireman.

“Hose isn’t long enough, too far away from the fire!” replied his wife.

This Post’s ‘Michael’s dumb pet hate’: People that say “oh, I didn’t mean to...” I mean, what is up with that? Someone’s just been a total jerk behind your back for years and they say “oh, I didn’t mean to...” what has that to do with anything?

This post’s inappropriate over share:  I don’t actually know the name of the gal who was the first person to you know what me.. I know, this is terrible. I knew her as a nickname, which I didn’t realise wasn’t her name until later on, then I couldn’t find her, nor have the courage to explain why I wanted to...