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I apologise for this brief lapse in landlordiness, but the lady of the moment has yet to respond to any of my postings.
MAN SEEKING WOMAN, 35-40, EYES THAT IMPLIED CONFIDENCE WITHOUT BEING OBNOXIOUS:
I was sitting in the upstairs waiting area of the doctors' surgery last Tuesday. I was the chap holding a sample of his urine in a vial. As my name was called over the automated system, your infant repeated it in an infantile (as would follow) mimic. You gasped in amazement, turned and informed me that "Jeremy" and "Kettle" were the fifth and sixth words, respectively, that your child had articulated, albeit sloppily. I was in a rush but am I clinically bananas to think there was a connection there? I'd like to capitalise on this momentum we've generated and make hay while the Sun shines - forgive the mixed metaphors. I'm not getting younger nor is your menopause a million miles away. I must stress, your child honours me with its serenade, but I am not its father and my wallet will reflect that.
But yes, this insipid podcast.
One hopes you harbour a fragment of interest in Sonic the Hedgehog (he of the eponymous franchise) or otherwise enjoy artistic snobbery and resentment of success posing as concern for the state of cinema. Professional jealousy makes for an ugly mug, especially when the mug in question belongs to an amateur whom I personally find unattractive regardless.
It ultimately doesn't matter how visually unappealing he is. I'm not saying he should be judged solely on that basis. It's just a happy accident that his ugliness of character is expressed aesthetically. Either way, I'm not gay. It's almost 2020* and far be it from me to suggest that beauty has any value. Nor am I bi.
*The Year for Hindsight. Has anyone stumbled across this yet? Pfidze, can we patent this?
By Video VillageI apologise for this brief lapse in landlordiness, but the lady of the moment has yet to respond to any of my postings.
MAN SEEKING WOMAN, 35-40, EYES THAT IMPLIED CONFIDENCE WITHOUT BEING OBNOXIOUS:
I was sitting in the upstairs waiting area of the doctors' surgery last Tuesday. I was the chap holding a sample of his urine in a vial. As my name was called over the automated system, your infant repeated it in an infantile (as would follow) mimic. You gasped in amazement, turned and informed me that "Jeremy" and "Kettle" were the fifth and sixth words, respectively, that your child had articulated, albeit sloppily. I was in a rush but am I clinically bananas to think there was a connection there? I'd like to capitalise on this momentum we've generated and make hay while the Sun shines - forgive the mixed metaphors. I'm not getting younger nor is your menopause a million miles away. I must stress, your child honours me with its serenade, but I am not its father and my wallet will reflect that.
But yes, this insipid podcast.
One hopes you harbour a fragment of interest in Sonic the Hedgehog (he of the eponymous franchise) or otherwise enjoy artistic snobbery and resentment of success posing as concern for the state of cinema. Professional jealousy makes for an ugly mug, especially when the mug in question belongs to an amateur whom I personally find unattractive regardless.
It ultimately doesn't matter how visually unappealing he is. I'm not saying he should be judged solely on that basis. It's just a happy accident that his ugliness of character is expressed aesthetically. Either way, I'm not gay. It's almost 2020* and far be it from me to suggest that beauty has any value. Nor am I bi.
*The Year for Hindsight. Has anyone stumbled across this yet? Pfidze, can we patent this?