Howdy New light2,
I've read your epithany post - very interesting - best wishes, Lee.
I can translate from English English to Australian English into American English if it helps?
Her Ladyship has gone away for the weekend, so I'm home alone, on me tod.
My wife has left me for a time indefinite but could be back any time.
Now, I'm quite a domesticated geezer really, house trained so that I don't pee on the carpet and quite capable of hoovering afore she comes back.Her dominating ways have me scared witness and I have the living room curtains parted and the Hoover pluged in and handy in case she suddenly comes up the driveway.
However, yesterday I decided to try out what it would be like to be a single bloke, a la me ole mate Trucker GB.
I feel like just being a slob till she gets back and I'm gonna blame it all on TruckerGB.
So. I left the washing-up out all day, tea-bags on the drainer, had a Chinese curry for tea and left the cartons out on the kitchen tops, watched a bluey in the afternoon then watched the football on the telly and finished up in the pub drinking beer and guzzling a Pepperami laden with chilli and garlic.
I've left a mess and the urge to clean it up is driving me nuts.
Regrettably, Trucker says that I failed miserably in the noble art of blokeyness. A real bloke would have left the chinese food carons on the floor in the lounge, his mates would have watched the telly with him and left beer cans everywhere and would have then got so sozzled in the pub that they would been unable to find their way home anywayI'm a failure and I'm starting to think my dick's too small.
A real bloke would have put his old Nike trainers in the engine compartment of his car so that it would always have that distinctive blokey smell once it heated up. A real bloke makes his underpants last at least 4 weeks between washes by the simple expedient of turning them round after a week, then inside out, then round again, then inside out again. A real bloke would not even own a hoover otherwise the carpet would not have that delightful stickiness so reminiscent of a back street Indian restaurantGeez it'd so be good to let myself go.
So I've failed. Miserably. I need some educating here. Please feel free to post what you think is an essential ingredient of true blokeyness.How can I be a real Butch Cassidy kinda bloke but not live in a stinking pile of crud?
Thank you.I really am a gentleman. EDIT: OH BUGGER! Pickle me grandmother I killed another thread! And it was going so well. That's it I'm off to bother the mormons.