Oh my god I’m hot. Really hot. Someone get
me a lake to jump into. I don’t care if it’s the Ganges, I don’t care about the
smell, I’m melting, swimming in sweat because a regular running regime
means all my pores are open and fully operational. Africa was this hot but at least I was
constantly moving, distracted, fanning myself while shooing away Tse Tse flies.
Here I’m writing and all I can think about is how much I need a bath and
whether the beads of sweat dropping between my breasts are going to create an
embarrassing watermark in the crease below them. I look around. Am I the only
one? Typical.
For the last few weeks I’ve been working on
a novella. Still on chapter one. I know
they say to write the first draft, just get through
it, but really HOW can I continuing writing when what I’ve penned already is uninspiring or at best I've come up with an awesome idea I'm afraid of loosing to heat stroke. People who think writing is easy are people who are not good
at it.
So it’s a fight to keep myself in the seat.
I’m sumo wrestle Stobby who’d rather hang out in the park and pet stray dogs. I
have 82 moves. Don’t believe me? I’m going to post one here everyday.
![]() |
black panties winner white panties loser |
UPDATE: My alert husband has just informed me that I could be violating copyright by sharing all my sumo moves so I'm going to nix this idea. I will instead share my dance moves but really, to do justice, you need to see them in person.
No comments:
Post a Comment