It's just shit

-Dirty cunt- some might say.
Others, -when you gotta go, you gotta go-

The bus stops at the lights just as the geyser is squatting down against the wall, his jeans and underwear pulled far enough away to give his hole some breathing space. The steady stream of semi-solid brown matter starts automatically; it's like it's triggered when the cacks pass a certain point on his arse. The expression on his face is one of relief as he filters the seemingly endless procession of shit with his fingers, presumably to get rid of any chunks that may go astray, and wipes the resulting sludge on the wall. A few people are out and about, but nobody's that close to him. The bus offers the best vantage point. His head darts from side to side, but no intervention's gonna stop him now he's in full flow.

There's a bird sitting in front of me who shoots the bloke a glance, gags a little, and mutters -animal-
How do you take a shit love? The process is basically the same: assume the position, grunt a bit and let gravity do the rest. The only difference between you and him is that his fundament won't smell of roses afterwards (or whatever the fuck they put on bog roll nowadays), and you won't be clawing dried faetal matter from your ass hair until your next crap... comfort kills. And as for animal... it wasn't that long ago when we were hanging from branches flinging shit at each other. Unfortunately, with the passage of time, we have designed so many, more glamorous projectiles.

As the bus pulls away, it's not hard to see the irony: life has done to him what he has just done on the pavement.

Blokes in PJ's

Came back from work about lunchtime the other day; the Turk that's been living in the apartment was standing in the kitchen in his pyjamas - blue things that have definitely past their bin by date. My first thought was, lazy cunt, but this was quickly eclipsed by the second thought, they don't do anything for you, son.

Now, it's probably a piece of piss for Messrs Clooney, Depp, et al. to carry off the whole PJ ensemble, and I'm sure they look very well too, but the stark truth is that the average bloke shouldn't be (or should only be) seen dead in his pyjamas. If I was a woman waking up beside an 'Alan-Harper-attired' twat, I don't think it would inspire a wide-on regardless of the morning glory that may be poking through the flap of the PJ bottoms.

A proper bloke should sleep naked, wake up proud and hard, give his ass a good scratch, and let his nearest and dearest know that he's awake...

Easy on the ego, hard on the head

But it is well known that a man carried away by passion, especially a man getting on in years, is quite blind, and prone to find grounds for hope where there are none; what's more, he loses his judgment and acts like a foolish child, however great an intellect he may have. (The Idiot)

You're out and about. The bird you're with, quite a bit younger than yourself, has an arm around your waist. She looks hot, oozes confidence and sexuality. Every cunt passing by has a quick ogle, and why not? You're not stupid... she makes you look better, more interesting. But don't get too carried away on your ego trip just yet.

She may have those attributes (and more) that the superficial bloke craves, but she also possesses an indefinable quality that sets her apart from most others: there's fire behind those eyes and you know it could spell danger. She's capable of anything and you're not 100% sure you can trust her. So how do you handle it, while preserving your sanity (and some dignity), knowing she's that independent type who's gonna go off and do her own thing when the mood takes her?

Regardless of your feelings for this girl, you know the ego needs fed, otherwise you'd be with that fat bird who's battling those nasty self-esteem demons (let's face it: she's gonna be more than chuffed if you spend 5 minutes in the same room together occasionally, and only fuck her after a night on the lash). To continue to feed the ego we must pay the price and this ultimately means doing business with Mr Paranoia. Yes, you'll spend a lot of time with this uninvited guest when she's out with mates or working late. Still, you could always settle for something more conventional, ogle the hot sort in the street, and wonder what the alternative would be like.