100 Things I Love (Part 6)

26. I love not having or owning children.

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It was a choice I made early. The world doesn’t need another Half Of ME. 

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Oddly, people always asume it was a choice and not the consequence of something else. 

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Do what?


I have never been asked about my fertility. I’ll never know the answer.

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So, I’m only responsible for myself and everything I say and do to the entire world.


27. I love shopping alphabetically. Food shopping can get dull.

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So this week I am only buying things that start with the letter A.

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You can lose weight on some letters. 


I also do it by packaging. Next week only tins, mnnn. 

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Tins! Yes!


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Oh Jesus


28. I love having my head scratched. 

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Fingernails comb my brain stems into flowing streams of enlightened consciousness. 

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I think pets are onto something.


 
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Don’t


29. I love Custard. Not to eat, you crazy fools. I like playing with it. You get a bowl of the powder then add small amounts of water until is a very thick mud. Then you scoop some out and squeeze it. It magically turns into a solid. Then as you let it go it returns to a liquid, you can have hours of stoner fun.

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Try it in wanky restaurants. 


30. I love looking for things to put in the Trash on my computer.

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After a good forage I hit the empty Trash button and I feel as if I have lifted a small burden from the world’s digital shoulders.

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Despite billions of dollars being spent to create English language versions of computer operating shitstems we still have American Trash instead of English Rubbish. 

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Shovel this down your gullet you plonker

NEVER MIND THE PIG LEGS

For the casual observer, if that you be, this shabby chic photograph of two pig feet in my living room may hold no value whatsoever, but to those of you who may have an eye for fine detail it will be unavoidably be drawn to the awareness of a highlighted black dot. What the fuck is it you ask your well trained eye? I shall tell you. It is a spider. Not that interesting, and out of focus to boot you say? True, but this spider is literally hanging by a thread, from the ceiling, mmmnnnnn a bit dull you may grunt? BUT Sirs and Ladies this spider is by all accounts a Dead Spider. Yes, DEAD LEGS BORIS on a thread. Was it going up or coming down? We shall never know, perhaps it was attempting a corner, we shall not know even after the Coroner has left. Was it a suicide? Was it hoist with its own petard, or did it run out of yarn? Poor fucker swinging in the breeze like that. Feel a bit bad about taking the photograph now. Pondering the plight of the pigs.