Well I would have too, except I’m only 99% sure naughty wicked zoot is a female (which is my prefence).
Besides there’s plenty of sex on the Web - and not enough classy prose*!
*who am I kidding - the English love lavatory humour :o
Well I would have too, except I’m only 99% sure naughty wicked zoot is a female (which is my prefence).
Besides there’s plenty of sex on the Web - and not enough classy prose*!
*who am I kidding - the English love lavatory humour :o **
[/QUOTE]
yep, female here. oh, gee, i just gave away one of the biggest female secrets in the world!! really, we don’t fart. honest. not ever. it’s the dog. or the cat. OR, it’s the guy, and they just won’t admit it. women don’t fart. really.
(psst, hey girls, think they bought it?)
This actually happened to me a couple of years ago. I lived in University City (part of Philly) going to Drexel. I lived in the first front apartment in a converted duplex. Some bad guy shot a cop a couple of blocks for where I live (this was around 2AM). He was running all over the place trying to get away. At one point, he ran between my house and the one next door and jumped the next door neighbor’s fence. Next we had a bunch of cops milling around and a police helicopter overhead. The baddie moved on and eventually was caught under a car a couple of blocks away. Oh, and the cop was okay. Bullet-proof vest. (Though he was shot with his own gun). This happened in the middle of summer, so my windows were open and I had only just gone to sleep. But of course, I slept through the whole thing. I heard about it later from my neighbor, who had just moved in a couple of days before. I guess I sleep like a log.
-G
I am a 10. If my imagination’s running wild enough to think
someones in the room, I’m checking. Well, maybe a 9.8. There
is a rare but always fun attitude I get when I’m EXTREMELY
tired. The what-if-there’s-a-killer-in-the-house thing
surfaces, and I dont even care. “Bring it on, freaks murderers and perverts” I think, " I am too tired to be concerned. I wave dismissively in your general direction."
But I can probably count those times on one hand.
In the house alone, though, sometimes I will get up and lock
the bedroom door. It’s a judgement call, because part of me hates to take actual physical precautions against what I
know are childish neuroses. The other part of me that usually wins has to get up early, though, and can be lulled to sleep in the comfort of knowing that when the intruder attempts to get in, I will hear the door rattling, rather
than him entering silently.
Is it just me?
UNLESS, and I love this part too, I am protected by the “other living thing in the house” clause. The wimpiest person could be sleeping in the house too, the most ineffective
watch dog, a cat, a HAMSTER, hell , I dont care, and I’m
automatically protected. Presumably the killer will get them first, and I will be alerted, with ample time to escape. 