"And the only thing grotesque
Is the space through which
we stumble each night"
After all that, it looks as though my job will be finishing up soon, and – I suppose – I will be heading back to my ordinary stay-at-home, focusing-on-the-internal writing life. The building company is getting sick of paying my expensive temporary wages, and they want to get a permanent office girl in. They have offered me the permanent job, in fact they keep offering it to me three and four times a day, but, well, I’m not going to take it. I thought about it for a bit, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to. For one thing, I might get shy about blogging classic builder interchanges such as this:
Builder bloke 1: Have we got a hole puncher?
Builder bloke 2: It’s over there near Naomi’s fat arse
Builder bloke 1: You can’t say that! That’s sexual harassment! [To me] don’t listen to him love, your arse is fine ... [confirms with a glance] Yeah, it's fine.
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1 comment:
I've long suspected, even without knowing you, that your arse is spectacular
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