Lazy Sunday

Lazy Sunday. You've got to love a lazy Sunday. Chillout music is playing on the (um, er, ah... as I now only have a laptop and a speaker, what do you call it?) Innocence's Build is playing.

It was raining when I got up, don't you just love the fresh smell of rain in the mornings. Clean. New. Life begins again. The world is virginal, reborn. The sun is just starting to break through now. It is a little humid, but whose gonna listen if I complain?

Chicken salad for lunch. Yum. Does life get better?

Afternoon. 1pm. My how time flies.

Shower. The warm wet, feeling running over my skin.

Take the dog for a walk. Shorts. T-shirt. The last day that Buddy can go walking still with his nuts attached. Poor him. I grimace a little at the thought and wonder if we are doing the right thing. (Will it hurt?)

I have 2 more days off, after this one. Yay me. Luxury.

Monday to myself. Nothing to do. Except take Buddy for his date with destiny. 5 years old. What is that in human years? Men's years. 35. Imagine getting your balls cut off at 35? Poor him. It is meant to be good for his health, stop him getting all sorts of health issues when he's older.

What then? Australia Day, when we can all wait for the bogan boys to wrap themselves up in the Australian flag and beat their Southern Cross tattoo'd chests claiming to be the only true white inhabitants of Australia. Ah, the scamps. Bless. They should all be rounded up and taken hostage-style to a dungeon full of horny bears and leather queens and handed over. Hog-tied with an Australian flag everyone of them. Lets see how white you are after they are finished with you boys.

Maybe, we should give the bears and leather queens knives and the bogan boys could have their balls cut off to cure their behavioural issues? They could be wrapped up in Australia flag nappies while they heal. It's just a thought. (Perhaps, we could have their thumbs surgically attached to their bottom lips. Grin.) Ha, ha, I'd offer to do the pre-surgiacl swabs. Of course.

Chuckle. Oh, such amusing ideas. But back to Sunday. I can hear the shower running, it must be time for me to hustle myself and take Buddy for a walk. Sam will be pointing and telling me I am the most wicked of all, if I don't get a wriggle on.