Well being single (and loving it) I had no intention of getting depressed this valentines day, in fact, I was thinking of sending a couple of sexy photos to a certain someone for my own amusement. Before I could do this though, I had duties of putting my chooks away for the night. At this point I’m going to note that although it was raining, wearing thongs seemed like a good idea.
Skip 3 mins ahead and I’m trying to chase one stray chook on a steep muddy slope and both legs are slipping outwards. I realise I’m about to watch myself attempt to do the splits. I grab for anything around me, just manage to get the gate and pull my legs back up.
Skip to another 3 mins ahead and I’m laying down muddy and wet on my bed with suspected sprained intestines. I may not be a doctor but it wasn’t my stomach so what else is left in there to sprain?? Real freakin sexy. I eventually sent a couple of pics but they looked shocking. On further viewing, I might even find the word grotesque appropriate. Ah well, its the thought that counts right? If clumsinesss, misfortune and awkwardness were sexy, I totes would have nailed it!
As a footnote, i’d like to add that when I decided it was a good idea to take a couple of photos, i’d just drank a beer, eaten half a packet of salt and vinegar chips, was laying face down on my couch and happened to glance over as my dog vomited, then watched it eat its own vomit back up. And as I’m typing this, I’m eating an english muffin with peanut butter so thick that each bite gives me an instant peanut butter mouthguard across my front teeth. So faking sexy is kind of a massive effort.