Holes

I'm still nursing my hole, the new one inflicted on me by my dear dentist. And let's face it, my dentist is in fact a dear. She may inflict holes, but not pain. Just orifices. And she's female, and straight, so it's not like she's being a demon and creating holes just to placate a screwed male mind. Still, I have a new orifice. But this one is as tender as a baby's bottom, no, that doesn't do it justice, it's probably even more tender than that. Which makes me think think think about something else which I cannot find an answer too. When a tooth is pulled out it leaves a hole right? Right. But in a matter of months, if the hole heals correctly, there will be a hole no more right? Right. So... how come, to put it very politely, that doesn't happen to our nostrils? Or our behind orifice, or, being a girl, the between the pins orifice? How come they don't close up? Is it because they are used so often that they don't have the time? But then come on, I'm no sex machine and times of drought are also real. And that still doesn't close up my hole. How come? It doesn't make sense. Because if the human body closes up one hole then it should close all the others up too. Right? No, it doesn't seem so. Maybe I'll get luckier on Wickipaedia, but what exactly would I type in the search box?

Lest I forget?

If my letter box had to suddenly speak it's mind I'd bet it would create one big mess, seeing that it's one big mess everyday. Poor letterbox. It does have a point. Every day I am being bombarded by glossy papers in all shapes and sizes which I don't even look at. I bin them immediately because I cannot save the world by recycling them? What would I do with them anyway? So prospective EU parliament members as well as prospective Local Council members are making sure I don't forget them, the elections, all the hard work they've put into, as well as boasting of their good moral conduct. They are basically making sure I don't suffer from forgetfulness. Alas, next Saturday I'm getting a bad case of amnesia. Sorry, I never wanted favours, I wanted my rights. And since it has taken the V.I.P.'s four years of forgetting, I guess I can forgive myself one day of forgetfulness. After all, I am human.

3

I'm not sure about the Tooth Fairy's comings and goings. But, Mister bought me a get well pressie, and so did my twin. I'm also not sure what I've done in life to deserve two fine men. Women get one decent man if they're lucky, I've got two, no, three, including my dad, another fine man. So let me do my Maths, common factor among these three men is not age, not even sexual orientation, not style and looks, although all three have this penchant for performing arts. But the common denominator is kindness, such a precious thing so hard to come about these days. And then I find it in 3? Is it all to do with threesomes? The world has come to term with such a lot of threesomes, you can even find them in things easily accessed by little people, somethings as innocent as milk. Milk... whole milk, semi-skimmed, skimmed. And then of course the inevitable, straight, bi, gay. It's all down to the power of three. And yet somehow I don't like the number much. It's an odd one. But can I say no to the kindness, to the happy gift-giving, to the lovely feeling of being loved? I don't think so either.