I woke to sounds of the electrical cord mower having at rain-fed grass that was ankle high when we got home. I wasn't fussed---though machine noises can cause distress---but it was in the shower that I discovered I could become a lawnmower man. theboy had enjoyed a fearsome flow motel showerhead and when we got home attempted to replicate it with our variable flow setting.
Articles from Harrangue Man
I went to a pool. It was outside and with a decent spray of adults and children. There was no echo to compound it but I handled the visit. I handled being in water surrounded by noise that could trip my brain into unreasoned panic and I did not trip into it.There were storms all through the week. There was a set of three bolts that hit near to where we were staying. I was on the balcony when I saw them strike then got palm-heels-to-ears before the noise of their strike hit.
I'd not seen the cat in a week so when I lay on the bed she hopped up and spent a dozen minutes licking my wrist. She'd pause then go again. Eventually I got sick of it and stuck my wrist under my pillow and she tunneled into it to lick some more. It's a sign of affection—and she wants the salt in my skin—but irritating. I got she needed it though and gave her that dozen before it was "JESUS CHRIST, STOP LICKING ME!"My pussy is a wrist licker. I accept it and have moved on.
We went late presuming kids abed at that hour, shopping for a Santa pressie swap. I was a dozen feet in when the two-year-old screamed but it was as if she'd come up to me while I was asleep, opened my ear wider, took a breath then screamed as loud as she fucking could.I countered with a "HOLY FUCK!", left the Xmas section and ended up in toys where happy chocolate-covered toddlers were shriek-babbling at each other and forcing another retreat.
In addition to the Official Secrets Act and need to know principles you learn to keep your mouth shut at times of the year in Canberra.
I was riding my trike alongside a skate park when a teenage boy screamed at me "ON YA, SONJA!" then started clapping and laughing at me.I nearly turned back to ask "What's the matter, never seen a short, fat man on a tricycle before?" only he'd almost certainly say "No."I don't know if that's slang for a fat man or if it was just hilarious yelling of a name because of the rhyming but he and his mate had a good laugh at my fucked-up body.I got annoyed at being a fat man yelled at for taking
I had to speak to an issue and cried at the end. I left the room to avoid hearing those speaking against. The person whose issue it was then flensed any opposing views with cold fact and got the full win.I didn't want to but got convinced to try; I got to Shake for her Bake.WFTW.
I have wretched feet—utterly flat, as if drawn by a lazy cartoonist. If there is any imperfection upon the surface that I tread in bare feet I will notice.
I was speeding along a sloped straight bit on my trike when I was overtaken on the left by my mudguard as it snapped off and shot over my shoulder. It nearly hit me. I don't know why my trike decided my mudguard would snap off then try to kill me but it did and it failed. I don't use it in the mud so the lack of a mudguard isn't too irksome.
I cannot bend without afearing my legs will snap off. But I can lift my foot up whilst free balancing on the other.So I use my toes as fingers to grab an object then lift it to finger height. I don't have terrific feet either but my toes don't tremble like the fingers so if I drop something the toes get it and hand it back to the fingers.I dropped seven pieces of clothing, mostly socks, whilst putting away dried laundry.