Make up bonding

Sometimes things really happen when you least expect them to. It's a cliche` I know and I do not like cliches but I have to bow to this. It's becoming increasingly rare to find a friend. A good friend. It's even harder to find a good female friend. And just after having behaved like a true masochist by placing myself in the sweltering heat of one summer night, just after having had enough and begun dreaming of airconditioning, just after having had too much Diet Coke... bang, I find a friend. I wasn't even looking for one. Maybe Santa Maria had other ideas. I mean I think she must be a good saint after all, she raised Jesus to be a righteous man which is more than many mothers can do nowadays. A friend introduced to me by another friend who looked at me normally. I was more than grateful for that. But no, this friend goes all the way. Suddenly I'd found a stranger and I was talking to her as if I had known her for a hundred years. Funny. But sometimes funny things happening are good things, perhaps it's the circle of life which throws people together. Sometimes it gets it right. It sure got it this time. And my new friend even more than kept her promise. I really wanted her stuff, not her own I mean, the stuff she sells. I kept badgering her for it too. Now I feel somewhat shy. Because I didn't expect all of that. For free. In 2009, nothing comes for free not even bread and butter. I just was grateful enough she was bringing me my so desired make-up, the least I could have done was pay her and say thank you. But no, she was having none of it, none of the money, because as she put it ' I offered, I told you I would come, I obliged, and you owe me nothing.' I'm not sure I behaved very well because I really wasn't expecting that kind of answer at all. Not from the oldest of friends, and certainly not from a new friend. Of course I love love love love the makeup, I have placed them all around me like new toys to play with. I actually will be playing with them as soon as I write this. But the thing is, someone today took some time off her time to come to me. Another thing is that someone came to me with plenty of pots of colour; it was like my birthday all over again; a Happy Birthday AnnMarie all over again. Too kind. Because she also gave me her smile. And that was the best of them all. Make up now has a new meaning to me. Sorry boys, but this time you won't understand. If you do then you're gay and that's ok.

Broody

I just suddenly decided to listen to 'Happy Birthday Jesus'. And it's summer, a long long way from Christmas. I confess I am a Christmas freak. If I could get away with having the tree up all the year round, I would. If having a Christmas wreath at my door wouldn't arouse speculation, then that's what I'd do. I love the carols, the bells, the lights, the tinsel, the stars, the presents of course. And I am in love with the feeling of Christmas love. Even though it's August. There is something I'm not liking though. Before, I could listen to this 'Happy Birthday Jesus' a million times and feel euphoric, whatever day or month it was, even if it was at that time of the month. This time round though, something has changed. It's making me almost sad, almost. Not terribly sad, but just a little bit, that little bit which is slamming my body down. I'm totally out of order, unable to do anything except listen and write and cry. And a new feeling is sweeping over me. I'm broody, not just a little bit but plenty of little bits. And plenty of little bits joined together make one big broody me. Perhaps it's because it's throwing me back to last Christmas' bid to have a little man of my own. I tried, I tried my best. God knows I did. But Sedqa and Appogg know it better. They think they know it all. They also broke my heart but that's not as important as the fact that they broke a little man's heart. So perhaps I have to turn to my own thing. Yes, it's coming, the sex. But really this time I have no choice, if I want a little man or a little woman then procreation is the only way. And procreation is a very uppa' class word for ... having sex, making out, doing it. You get to lie down, then the male partner lies on top of you. Or the male lies down and you lie down on top of him. Or maybe you find yourself kneeling and your male partner is right behind you. Yet another possibility is using bricks and mortar, i.e. doing it up against the wall.. if I had less kilos. Or perhaps both sit on top of each other. Loads of possibilities. And this time, just this time, no electrical device is going to do it. But then I think since it's something I'm wanting... can't it be selfish? I mean nobody asked me if I wanted to grace the world. And I'm not sure I would have accepted the proposal. So who am I to go forth and multiply since I cannot ask the little would be in question the question? And then, after all, perhaps I'm already too old for it. The baby thing, not the other thing, mind you. I have risked it happening plenty of times, perhaps because I like risking, or perhaps the subconscious was playing funny tricks. My biological clock is ticking fast, but is it a good enough reason to go forth and work out the multiplication as yet? What if I get it wrong, and do I need to use a special kind of calculator?

Specs

Someone here thinks that hot dogs at 1am is a cool idea. Trouble is so do I. But in every dietary plan it says not to eat anything after 8pm. This doesn't tally. Or maybe 1 am is the start of the day so the 8pm rule doesn't work there. It's not fair. Because someone here wants me as company every day. I mean, company as in eating out every day. When the hell is my diet going to start? It's always tomorrow, then the day after, and then the day after that. And I do protest but I get oh honey come on you're fine as you are. Suddenly it becomes, oh honey I want you with me because I lurrvvvee you. Hmmm Not sure whether it's the love for me or for the hot dogs, or even of having someone to talk to and listening to his voice a the same time. Men are so complicated. Or maybe I bag the complicated ones. Or maybe even it's the complicated ones which bag my interest precisely because they are complicated. Then that makes me complicated squared. Or perhaps a simpleton. Some men really need glasses,, these long-sighted men are rather blind I sometimes think. Or maybe they're using reading glasses instead of myopic ones. Hint at the reading... old old old. There I just typed it in. With a real vengeance, because revenge is sweet, even if it comes through the hot-dogs. But it's sure nice to be looked at through rose-trimmed specs. That's why honey doesn't argue. Honey is nice, of course. Very very nice.