Safety Nets

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Having a boyfriend makes me feel safe.

My relationship status makes me feel secure.

I can talk to guys, and sometimes flirt with guys, without any fear of repercussions or pursuits.

I am taken.

I am off the market and men responded in kind. They feel they can talk to me, the pressure to impress isn’t there and I make sure of it.

So they open up.

I can be their friend, their compatriot, they can test their stuff on me and not worry.

I love being part of their lives without worrying about messy breakups or awkward dates.

My genitalia doesn’t define me.

They treat me like an actual person, a standard human being.

I’m just one of the lads, one of the group, they can feel comfortable around me.

Don’t get me wrong though.

I believe men and women can be single and friends without worrying about underlying sexual tensions.

The different body parts shouldn’t be a factor when building friendships.

Its jealous boyfriends and girlfriends that say otherwise.

They just don’t trust their partners… or anyone for that matter, idiots.

I digress.

It’s just, being in a relationship gives you that added factor, that added wiggle room.

You can push the boundaries a bit more and still feel secure.

Now, what I do, what I really enjoy, is observing my friends new partners.

I guess it stems from a fear.

From a past of broken friendships.

I worry about whether or not they will fit in, what they will do to our group, how they will affect us.

So I like to see how they respond, to me and the other girls in our group.

If they don’t overreact and don’t go ape-shit they are keepers.

Simple.

I respect them.

I befriend them.

If not, well… the decision is usually made for us.

My friend will either see the light and ditch their new squeeze or I, and any other lady friend, will never see them again.

I hate the latter.

It hurts.

They’ve devalued the friendship and discarded it.

It’s a stab in the back.

But some girlfriends just can’t handle my lady goods.

That’s how it goes.

I’m able to see the distinction because I am in a trusting relationship.

I don’t mind my man having lady friends and, likewise.

That’s why we are so compatible.

Guess you could call me a tomboy, but I find the phrase insulting.

I’m just normal, I have many interests.

Nothing is gender specific anymore.

The term Tomboy, is outdated.

So please refrain from using it around me.

Anyway, back to what I was saying.

I have never felt more able to be myself.

I’m not out to snag a lover.

I don’t need to.

I’m out there to find people who will accept my ridiculous personality, to be as real as possible and see what comes back.

When I was single I was a nervous wreck.

Zero confidence.

Now I can approach and engage with ease.

Flirting isn’t a clumsy tongue-tied affair.

It’s just a spot of fun.

I can also dance like a normal person.

No sexy boring dancing for me, no thank you.

I jump and mosh with the boys without worrying about getting sweaty, just bruised.

Clubbing has lost its sheen though.

I no longer find it enjoyable having men press themselves against me to gyrate and hump like a dog on heat.

Wait, when was that ever enjoyable?

Clubbing is a frenzy of singletons.

You can liken it to any mating season in the animal kingdom, every species has one.

When you’re there just to dance and have fun, little things you were able to brush over before become colossal irritations.

People bumping into you all the time, people walking through your group and people drunkenly leaning on you, it all adds up.

You begin to wonder, is it worth it?

The deafening music, the expensive drinks and the inability to really get your groove on begins to gripe you.

I have a living room, an IPod and a kitchen that can provide better entertainment.

So that’s one downside to being in a relationship, you grow up, and only go clubbing if you really, really must.

Is that a huge loss though really? No, more a relief.

Having a boyfriend has saved me from many unwanted suitors and it has also helped me to make some interesting friendships.

I must have been a very incapable singleton, a gawky novice.

I’m sure if I was single now, I’d be able to cope, but I’m thankful for my safety net.

I’m thankful I have a man that trusts me.

A man that lets me bat my eyelids every once in a while and doesn’t mind me being silly with somebody else, even if it is a man.

It works both ways though and I’m pretty sure his feelings are identical.

I can be rebellious and safe all at the same time.

It’s not a bad way to live I think.

Review Number Six

6) Boston Tea Party – Exeter

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On Friday the 26th of April I had the pleasure of experiencing what Boston’s had to offer, by way of a cream tea, with two of my fellow connoisseur’s; my Aladdin and my Becca.

It was an odd experience because I never usually go there for that particular beverage. I always tend to order a delicious white hot chocolate with one of their blackberry and apple flapjacks smothered in a generous layer of yogurt. Yum. Yum. But today we had planned to make an exception. Bandicoot and I had conquered an empty table (which by the way is really hard to do during the lunch rush hour) and were waiting for my less than punctual friend to arrive.

We were starving, eager and uncommunicative by the time she graced us with her presence. So you can imagine how quickly we rushed through the pleasantries and forced her to accompany Ash Ketchum with our order.

We, the couple, decided to share a cream tea (after the last episode at A La Ronde I wasn’t going to ruin myself again) and to consume some of their toasted sarnies. Becca, however, decided to go for a brownie instead… WHAT?! I know, right? Apparently she was too full from lunch and couldn’t handle a whole one to herself! Disgraceful!

BUT, I had to forgive her, chastising a girl fresh out of work from a long shift is unfair and cruel. So I gave her a warning that if she did it again, next time, I wouldn’t be as … understanding. It would be wise for you to remember that Becca, that a one time offender is all you can be, perhaps I shall text you daily reminders … would you like that?

Constant Cream Tea Rejecters are rogues and fiends; not to be trusted – remember that all!

So once that unfortunate matter was settled we moved on to the most important concern of all – eating the cream teas.

These were the notes I made whilst gobbling (pictured below on their comment slip):

1)      Not enough sauces

2)      Toasted without permission

3)      Pre-sliced

4)      Small teapots, but good tea

5)      Cheese Droplets

6)      “It’s not emulsion” – several layers

7)      Spreads well, not flaky nor brakey

8)      No choice of Jam favours

9)      Moist

6/10

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I feel some of these points need to be explained …

For some reason they had decided to pre-slice and toast our scones for us, I have never come across such a heinous act before and was confused as to why they felt this was necessary. I am not incapable of cutting a scone in half, no, in fact I’ve had plenty of practice! And the toasting thing? Baffling. The only benefits such a function gave us was that it made spreading the cream on top easier and prevented the scone from excessive crumbling, other than that; pretty redundant.

The presentation of the food was nice enough though; the buns came to us on a beautiful plate of blue china and the sandwiches in these funky looking terracotta bowls with tissue. For one this cream tea would be decent enough, but it was a lucky thing I ordered my own pot of peppermint tea because there wouldn’t have been enough for Ketchum and I from the one pot they gave us. Tea was of excellent quality but I wouldn’t have minded some more. And the sauces…? There was not enough, not enough at all. I mean what we were given did cover each of our halves but it didn’t feel like an indulgence. Instead it was pristine, neat and somewhat flat. I spread and spread layers and layers of cream and jam but I felt forced to hold back in case there wasn’t enough.

Oh and number 8) is self explanatory.

As far as looks go I was dubious and unimpressed, I was worried that because they had toasted the buns they would be dry and crispy.

Lucky, my criticisms stop as soon as they got into my mouth.

What? Really? Yep!

They were… MOIST and NOMMY! Totally not what I was expecting at all. The jam was sweet and the cream was nourishing. It was certainly a ‘Boston Tea Party’ in my mouth … (ha ha get it? … ahem …) The Moroccan mint tea I had went SO well with it too, I had my happy cat face on every time I took a bite and a sip, I enjoyed having my expectations altered. All those apprehensive feelings I had, prior to my mouth party, dissolved along with each morsel that was being devoured by digestive enzymes.

So, ya, on the scale of ‘orgasmic to nauseating’ it hit the satisfactory mark. It did the job. A 6/10 according to my lover is what it deserves.

Oh and number 5)? Well those cheese droplets came from our delicious Sandwiches; Aladdin had an Eldorado and I had a Hot Chick – super tasty and super crispy – they toasted them to the max…

Perhaps they just really love their toaster? I accidentally breathed out while taking a bite of my Chick and this embarrassing cloud of crumbs blew forth from my lips! It went everywhere! In my tea, in the jam, in Ketchum’s tea, in Becca’s face, on Bandicoots lap and ALL over the table … I don’t think anyone could’ve missed it. Reminded me of that scene in the Little Mermaid when Ariel blows Grimsby’s smoking pipe and the tobacco covers his face …

Almost AS embarrassing as the jam knife incident when it jumped out of my hand and stabbed my side on its way down to the floor (that happened on this very same occasion by the way – Boston’s obviously wanted to humiliate me this particular trip). So unfair.

Anyway, back to the cheese droplets, they were just droplets of cheese from our sandwiches which I ate. Even Bandicoots droplets… yeah that’s right I ate ‘em.

To sum up – deceptively good but I recommend don’t share one between two unless you buy an extra pot of tea. Also don’t feel threatened by the seating upstairs, just because you have to share a table with a stranger doesn’t mean they will bother you, but if it makes you uncomfortable avoid going at lunch time and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to land a sofa!

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Oh! They also like to promote local artists in their tearooms so keep an eye out! Jane Perkins is currently on show and her work is amazing! (I’ve tagged her website if you want a looksie!)

A Super-Induced Night

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They met at a house party; a typical scene for two students to meet. It was an evening themed around Super heroes and everyone had made an effort to come up with their own particular character.

Now the guy apparently possessed the powers of Lego … I’m not exactly sure what that entails; the ability to construct elaborately coloured buildings perhaps? Or perhaps the pieces of plastic just float around him like orbiting moons? Anyway, he was as he called himself; Lego Lad. He had painstakingly attached thousands of pieces of Lego to his polo top the night before and was impressed with his short-notice abilities. He had a fiery mane of hair and accompanied his t-shirt creation with a reliable pair of jeans; he envisaged a dangerously inebriated night with circus-like antics. Smart move.

The girl, however, was a less man made subject; she was Pantheretta. A step up from cat woman to be sure, but her name was really the only thing that differentiated her from all the other spandex-clad girls that fill the history of comics. She had felt self conscious as soon as she put on her costume. When she bought it she had a team of friends there to give her an ego boost and the confidence to purchase it. But, alone in her room and in front of THAT mirror she lost her nerve. So she had to quickly chuck on a crop top, one that had the face of a Panther on it, before she left for the party; where she would no longer be exposing her tiny boobs to scrutiny. Last minute panics sure do conjure up innovative ideas.

It was an unlikely pairing to be sure; complete opposites when considering their costume choice but nevertheless they made the perfect partnership; neither were sidekicks.

I’m not exactly sure who spoke to who first, or who preyed on who, or who’s eye caught who first, for it was a crowded room and I seemed to have missed that particular first glance. They did however seem to gravitate towards each other, as if by design, and ended up colliding into each other in one almighty THWACK!

‘Ouch!’ they had said in unison.

‘Bloody hell, how much room do you need?’

‘It’s not my fault I didn’t see you.’

‘Sure, because a man covered in Lego is really hard to notice.’

‘I was distracted … and those hurt me! Look I actually have circular dents in my arm.’

‘Your own fault.’

‘No it wasn’t!’

Eyes met and glared.

‘Fine, whatever, sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going ok?’ She sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen to find sustenance; by way of a stiff drink. So far this evening wasn’t going to plan.

He watched her storm off and noticed that his eyes were solely focused on her hips as they were swaying their way away from him. Bemused, he followed.

‘Hey wait a minute!’

‘What?’

‘Let me mix you a drink? I can make you a tasty jelly-baby.’

‘Is this your way of saying sorry?’

‘No. You said sorry, I’m here to
make you a drink, ok?’

‘Sure, fine, whatever … I do want one.’

She watched him dubiously as he mixed together a concoction of spirits and bright colours. He presented her with a cloudy green liquid, with a piece of Lego floating on top, accompanied with ecstatic arm gestures when he was done.

‘Ta da! Now tell me that doesn’t taste like sweets, go on.’

She tentatively took a sip and was instantly glad she hadn’t said no, it was as if he had stabbed a jelly-baby and she was lapping up their fruity sweet blood.

‘That is amazing!’

‘I know.’ He stated smugly.

‘You are now my official drink maker for this evening, although you can have this back, I don’t fancy choking on it.’ She tossed the yellow brick he had put in her glass in his general direction and continued to slurp. It landed on the floor and disappeared from sight.

‘You can’t throw.’

‘You are right … but I can catch and that’s more important.’ She crowed.

‘You know many people here?’

‘Yeah, you?’

‘Yeah … but how have we not met before?’

‘Don’t know. I’d certainly remember that mess of hair on your head if I had.’

He laughed and assumed his usual flirting position; cocked head and a leaning arm that renders him precariously close to his victims personal space. Her eyes flickered to the face which was now intimately close to hers and hid a smile behind her drink. Perhaps her original plan didn’t matter anymore?

‘What’s your name?’

‘Lego Lad.’

‘No your real name.’

‘Oh, you’ll have to earn that; a hero never reveals his identity unless it’s essential to his cause.’

‘Fine.’

‘You meant to be cat woman?’

‘No. I’m Pantheretta … sounded better than Panther women.’ She added when a mocking smile spread over his face. She felt inadequate all of a sudden and gulped down the remainder of her green jelly-baby blood juice.

‘Ah yes, I see your t-shirt now, I thought those two blobs were there to draw attention to your bosoms… now I see they are eyes!’

‘Well making men look at my boobs is my only mission in life, didn’t you know?’ How far from the truth that statement was he’d never know.

‘Well I approve. Want to dance?’ He gestured towards the living room where a crowd had formed and were boogying along to Katy Perry’s dulcet tones ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it …’

Finally the alcohol in their systems was encouraging the heroes to lose their inhibitions and dance amongst the sofas. A Transformer and a Dino girl were causing an obstruction in the middle of the makeshift dance floor due to their bulky figures but the fatalities were nothing more than a few bruised egos and a couple of disgruntled … errmm … ‘couples’.

He led her in and tentatively dodged tails and capes till they found a suitable spot on the sidelines. The conversation was on pause while they danced and sang loudly at each other. They would both be interrupted by friends who would excitedly tap them on the shoulder and scream ‘Finally, there you are!’, ‘Where have you been?’ and ‘Oh who is this?’ Conversations wouldn’t last long though music either drowned them out or they would be dragged away by other prospects. They would always wind up alone again and they didn’t realise how much they wanted it to be that way for a long time.

After a while she made drinking gestures and pulled him back to the kitchen to make her another special brew.

‘So why didn’t you go off with your friends?’ she asked while he whisked.

For a moment he was silent.

‘I guess I find you too interesting.’ He finally answered without looking at her, ‘You?’

‘I couldn’t very well leave my cocktail maker behind.’ She winked and nestled in closer to inspect his work; this time he was making something pink. ‘Looks tasty, what’s in it?’

‘Never you mind.’ He pulled off another one of his Lego pieces and plopped it into the bubbly mix. ‘Don’t choke.’

This time she drank it with the floating blue brick and her eyes widened as the broth tantalised her senses. ‘Actually, I find you pretty damn interesting too’ she said with a glazed and glossy expression.

And that cinched it they would be inseparable for the rest of the night. Nothing, no one, could keep them apart, even trips to the loo! Maybe it was his eccentric way of telling stories that made her stay and listen; or her appearance of confusion that drove him to continue talking on and on. Anyway both were intrigued and glued.

‘So what is your super power exactly?’ she queried whilst fiddling with the straw in her drink.

‘I can control anything Lego’ he stated, as if it was obvious.

‘So, say I drew their logo, you could then move it around and control it?’

‘Essentially… yes… I guess so.’

‘What made you think of this… power?’

I like Lego’ he grinned.

‘Fair enough. Have you got a back story all worked out? How you got this power? Was it an electrical storm like in Misfits? Or you were born with it like superman?’

‘When I was eleven I went to Hogwarts and perfected the art of wingardrium leviosa.’

She laughed, ‘No really, what’s your back story going to be?’

‘That not good enough for you?’

‘No, not really’ she teased.

‘What’s yours then hum?’ he encroached even further into her personal space and squared up to her as if they were on the verge of a shoot out. His jaw was confidently clenched.

‘I was a feral child and I grew up as a panther cub.’ She said without blinking. ‘Duh.’

‘That’s not very original.’

‘Nothing is nowadays.’

Their personal bubbles had merged and after a bout of tipsy giggles had subsided a moment suddenly struck them. A moment when speaking ceased and only one thing could possibly happen. Before they knew it they were in each other’s arms and their lips were locked together. All thoughts of the guy Pantheretta wanted to initially impress were gone, easily overshadowed and forgotten when in Lego Lads company.

The clock struck the enchanting time of three and forced the couple to resurface. They discovered the house to be relatively empty except for the few, like them, who were still invading each other’s tonsils and those who had drunken or smoked themselves into a coma. Stragglers were ambling around the house looking for personal effects and there they were, in the middle.

‘Time to take you home I think’ Lego Lad breathed.

‘Yeah…’

She led him to her accommodation and after a final frantic smooching session at her door and a tumble in her bed, they slept together in each other’s arms.

The next morning she woke to the giggles of her flat mates. Her head was dizzy and from what she could make out from their hysterical screeching was that photos from last night were up on Facebook. She left the boy in her bed and trudged her way to the kitchen. There were some close ups of her smiling with her friends but most of them were of her in background kissing Lego Lad.

‘You certainly forgot about that David boy in a hurry.’

‘Look at you two going at it!’

‘We couldn’t tear you away from him!’

She ignored their teases and set about making herself a cup of tea.

‘Chloe!’

‘What? Have you found another picture of me in a compromising position with Lego Lad? Super…’

‘No, Chloe, what is that on your arm? Is that a tattoo?’

‘No it’s a sticker!’ Said another one of her friends.

She looked down and saw a sticker on her arm that she hadn’t noticed the whole evening… it was a sticker with the Lego Logo on it.

Read on ReadWave.com

To Kill a Wendy-bird…

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Thanks to a close friend of mine (Patrick Enigma… I’ve mentioned him before perhaps you remember…? No? What? Well then read the post about him then, sheeeesh…) we’ve finally figured out which female Disney Character I am.

You know all those online questionnaires you do to figure out which Princess you are most like?

No?

WELL DO IT!!

Its fun; my friends and I used to have fun figuring out which ones we were and talking about our predominant character traits. Although, sometimes, it did lead to arguments when negative traits were mentioned… you know the ones your friends are not meant to notice or point out… EVER… well, I used to have fights with one of my Besties (Jellybean, will talk about her soon!) about which one of us was more like Belle from Beauty and the Beast… used to end with us having to pick other ones; she would be Ariel and I would end up being Snow White just to save us from throwing chocolate at each other.

HOWEVER, that has now changed. I finally must bow down and admit defeat… for I am none of them. Yes I love reading like Belle and can I sing like an angel too… (yeah errrm one of those might be a slight over exaggeration…) yes I love to clean up with my animal friends like Snow white and yes I flirt as badly as Meg does… not sure if she counts as a princess… meh… demi-god-dater is close enough… and hell’s yeah I like to rebel like Ariel but, alas, nope, nada, I am none of them. A single character trait has foiled me.

And that’s jealousy.

Can you guess who I mean yet?

No?

Ok, well I shall go into a little bit more detail. I HATE IT WHEN MY MALE FRIENDS GET GIRLFRIENDS.

There I said it… soooo happy to get that off my chest.

It’s not as if I fancy them or anything (well, sometimes…) but I just can’t stand it when another girl comes along and thinks she knows this guy better than I do. Fine ok I don’t know what their penis looks like but dammit there is a history here and you are spoiling it. I despise the girlfriends that force their lovers to stop hanging out with their friends just because their friends are women… I mean what’s that about? If you love him you should trust him. End of. You doing that just makes you out to be an obsessive, insecure and immature bitch. (You can tell I’ve had this happen to me often can’t you?) Do they really think I’m going to run off with their beloved? If I had wanted to don’t you think it would’ve happened already? (Wow that’s really arrogant isn’t it… (it isn’t if it’s true..) SHUSH INNER ME, ahem what nonsense… I certainly don’t think it would be that easy… … …)

A guy and a girl can be friends.

No. No. THEY CAN! It’s a myth set up by the controlling partners who can’t stand their girlfriend/ boyfriend being with the other sex no matter how innocent the situation may be.

That annoys me.

That’s why, like Tinkerbell, I burn red with hatred when girls take my boys away.

Lord that sounds possessive…

No it is possessive.

I admit I am slightly possessive…

I’ve no idea where it stems from; I don’t get as bad when my girly friends are taken away by their boyfriends… I think it’s because men can’t help but focus on one person at a time. When a guy has a girl they are either all in or not and that means that I am more than usually forgotten.

I hate being forgotten. Or left out. Or ignored… I think everyone can emphasise with those feelings.

I also think it’s easier between girls because they can have the excuse: ‘oh I’m having a girly night in/out, no boys allowed’ or on the other side ‘LADS NIGHT OUT!’ You can’t exactly say ‘we’re having a best boy and girl friend night out’ can you? It just doesn’t work, it just instantly sounds suspicious, WHICH IS SO UNFAIR, especially when there is really nothing suspicious about it AT ALL… it’s just the rules (written by the domineering manipulative, green-eyed cows… ahem I mean loving girlfriends I told you about… must not be bitter… stop being bitter…)  

Funny how it was my male friend that noticed… maybe because he is very much like Peter Pan…

And I am certainly his Tinkerbell; his sidekick who tries to kill his Wendy-birds… as of yet I have only ever approved of one of them… future Wendy-birds… BE CAREFUL!!! (but don’t worry I won’t really kill you, I will just turn red and glare at you or make it plain when meeting you for the first time that I did not want you here, interrupting Peter and I’s private party is a capital offence… and is not tolerated lightly.)

Ha I joke, like I would never be that obvious…

*shifty eyes…

Character Profile 2

Lottimus

My hybrid hippo of a friend; is another one of my special comrades.

She, unlike her name suggests, is a most slender and provocative being. I have always envied the size of her thighs and of her energetic temperament. It was a godsend to have met her all those years ago at school (uggggg school… just thinking about it makes me shudder…) and the fact that she STILL manages to flabbergast (yes, such a splendid word… flabbergast…) me with her sexual exploits is a feat of majestic proportions. I am still unsure as to where her name originated from, my memory has always been an issue, but I am confident it was just a random glitch of invention. Hippos are usually cumbersome and stout creatures and the only way that she is even comparable to them, I guess, is when they become ferocious… and perhaps when she pulls funny faces.

Dear lord! How akin she becomes to this creature when she contorts her face into outrageous expressions; it’s a sight which belongs in a circus of some sort. I always wonder whether the muscles in her face will one day snap from the strain of being pulled hither and dither. I imagine her face all saggy and instantly think of that dog from the MGM cartoons… Droopy, Droopy the dog. I hope that flaccid end never befalls her because I doubt I’d be able to restrain myself from calling her Droopy… Who knows, maybe all this stretching is in fact strengthening these muscles and will therefore keep them taunt and wrinkle-free when she is old. If that happens, well then my envy will reach new boundaries…

Anyway, anyway let’s get back on track, shall we?

As I was saying; though portrayed in a different manner, Lottimus’s ferocity is not too dissimilar to that of the haughty hippo. Even if she’s not aggressive or vicious like one; she can still charge. Her intensity and confidence is apparent with every exhaled breath; like the flickering of cloud that escapes our lips in the cold days of winter. We can see it; only it’s golden. She doesn’t have to think twice when she rushes into a situation; her vibrancy can carry her through any venture.

She is more Happy Hippo than actual Hippo. No one can dislike a happy hippo… they taste sooo good. I only wish they made them multi-coloured… they’ve missed a trick here; definitely think I will send this suggestion to Kraft. If I could choose which colour happy hippo Lottimus would be I’d definitely make her fluorescent yellow. Her hide would glow brightest of them all and she would have a smile that looked as if it had been drawn on by Walt Disney himself… a genuine throw-back from the pink elephant brigade.

Did anyone else find those pink elephants terrifying? I remember watching Dumbo with Lottimus after a night out and we both sat their thinking ‘I do not remember it being like this when I was a kid!’… far too sinister for whatever AM it was that morning.

Lottimus is my golden girl. I can count on her to make me laugh and see sense through my insecurities. She has strong opinions on music, politics, vegetarianism, films and… men… but she doesn’t force these judgements on others. She is what you’d call the modern day eco-warrior who listens to hard-core rock AND hip hop, loves dinosaurs AND cooking, loves intergalactic sci-fi AND films with subtitles.

Back at school I had a pixie cut (a move I still regret to this day) but out of all the girls I knew who said they liked it she’s the only one who was brave and cut her hair short too. This made me certain that she wasn’t feeding me with false compliments and from then on I have never ever doubted anything she has told me. She was the one who stuck up for me even if I wasn’t brave enough to do it myself – and she still holds the grudges I wasn’t strong enough to cling to….

HEY! I guess that may be another reason as to why she is similar to a hippo… she has thick skin; an impenetrable hide which can take the sticks, the stones and the ugly words which harm most people.

She is a genuine defender of the weak…

A superhero.

My superhero.

I can imagine her outfit now…

Brown boots – Perfect for avoiding the dreaded high-heel ‘accidental’ treading and for prolonging time spent on the dance floor.

Thick trousers or jeans – for warmth and freedom to boogie like a freak.

A simple black top with a signature logo of a band she likes – so she can wave her arms about without risk of showing off giant sweat patches. Which I too suffer from, no matter what deodorant you use nothing works and it doesn’t matter what time of year it is it still attacks… why? Why?

A necklace of an AT-AT Walker from Starwars OR of a tyrannosaurus – shows she is a complete and utter geek and who doesn’t like a geek?

Hair must be down – a head-banging blonde is hard to ignore; an approved method of seduction.

Long jacket – to shield from rain and so that she can practice her flashing skills without risk of actual… flashing… hehehe I made that up… she doesn’t really flash people… only me.

She has always taken good care of me – from our experimental school days where we would strut around the playground listening to hip hop to dramatic nights out where she’d have to save me from strange lustful men by pretending to be my lesbian partner. She is a friend everyone must have and I hope you do because if I didn’t have my Lottimus I know for a fact I wouldn’t be the person I am now.

She is the girl who is the most unlikely hippopotamus ever created and it’s pretty lucky her nickname fits so so well.