I'm Jens, a mouthy, opinionated blonde who lives in England with sons Bonaventure and Delton. Neither of their dads is around and I have a wild social life though I wouldn't mind a permanent feller. I'm in Chinese food - the pay's rubbish but I get all the chop suey I can scoff. I hope to find which New Zealand All Blacks rugby player was me dad.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
On the buses
I know practically nothing about cars.
3 comments:
Anonymous
said...
Yes, public transportation, not a good thing. Once I feel asleep on a very crowded subway. I was holding on to a pole and when I woke up, an Asian man was smiling at me. I then felt something against my hand and it turned out to be the front of his trousers!! Yikes!!
My boss Mr Wu was a bit like that when I started at the Chinese food shop. I warned him that if he didn't desist, very soon prawn balls'd be off the menu and he'd have a singing voice higher than the Vienna Boys' Choir. He didn't seem to understand at all. So I did a fast side-kick to within an inch of his crutch (I'd just seen a Bruce Lee movie) and he interpreted that much better. It certainly proved actions speak louder than words, Cherry, love.
It would be easier if you asked what's right with it. The Mini, which I fondly call the Curse because there only ever seems to be signs of anything happening about once a month, has now stopped altogether. The mileage clock is jammed up for good at 999,9999 or something and nothing else goes either. Early one morning just as the sun was rising I drunkenly sideswiped five or six late-model cars on the way home from the clubs. I did some real damage to them but I thought my Mini was okay because it got me home, though it was smoking more than I do two days after trying to kick the filthy habit. But since I got it home it hasn't started at all. No sound when I turn the screw-driver in the ignition (a feller I had a row with swallowed the keys and I never got them back. Well, you wouldn't want to, would you?) It's about a 1974 model so I think it may have died of old age or the equivalent of grand-parent abuse because I've thrashed it like a Dominatrix. If you can give it the kiss of life or something I'll be ever so grateful.
3 comments:
Yes, public transportation, not a good thing. Once I feel asleep on a
very crowded subway. I was holding on to a pole and when I woke up, an Asian man was smiling at me. I then felt something against my hand and it turned out to be the front of his trousers!! Yikes!!
My boss Mr Wu was a bit like that when I started at the Chinese food shop. I warned him that if he didn't desist, very soon prawn balls'd be off the menu and he'd have a singing voice higher than the Vienna Boys' Choir. He didn't seem to understand at all. So I did a fast side-kick to within an inch of his crutch (I'd just seen a Bruce Lee movie) and he interpreted that much better. It certainly proved actions speak louder than words, Cherry, love.
It would be easier if you asked what's right with it. The Mini, which I fondly call the Curse because there only ever seems to be signs of anything happening about once a month, has now stopped altogether. The mileage clock is jammed up for good at 999,9999 or something and nothing else goes either. Early one morning just as the sun was rising I drunkenly sideswiped five or six late-model cars on the way home from the clubs. I did some real damage to them but I thought my Mini was okay because it got me home, though it was smoking more than I do two days after trying to kick the filthy habit. But since I got it home it hasn't started at all. No sound when I turn the screw-driver in the ignition (a feller I had a row with swallowed the keys and I never got them back. Well, you wouldn't want to, would you?) It's about a 1974 model so I think it may have died of old age or the equivalent of grand-parent abuse because I've thrashed it like a Dominatrix. If you can give it the kiss of life or something I'll be ever so grateful.
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