Saturday 25 July 2015

Sugar, and Ace-ing It

I shall probably write about what I did today.  Most of you are probably too busy not giving a rat's ring what I did today, and that's a good thing because it's a clear sign you are all capable of minding your own business.  First of all I did my usual (after my morning coffee because NOTHING happens until I've ground the beans and brewed myself a nice cappuccino), and that was to throw a cat among the pigeons on a morning television show's Facebook thread.  Well, to be honest, I didn't really throw the cat among the birds; I'd say a more accurate metaphor would be I lifted the cat up and held it aloft for the birds to see, just for a bit of a scare.  In real life I probably wouldn't bother lifting up a cat because I actually don't like them. I'm a dog lover.  There was an article on 'Sunrise' this morning about this thing of being a 'sugar baby' for a 'sugar daddy' who's willing to pay.  Oh, there were the usual hand-wringers and pearl-twisters, and won't-someone-think-of-the-children-ers.  'It's prostitution!' complained many.  Possibly, if interpreting and applying the NSW legislation definition of prostitution to these situation, it is indeed that.  Inciting someone to sexual excitement and gratification for remuneration is indeed pretty much what prostitution is, as I understand our State Legislature.  But in the case of the sugar-relationship: who cares?  The people involved are all consenting adults making their own informed decisions.  People were saying the girls would look back with regrets.  I'm reckoning they'll look around their mortgage-free homes, and pay their bills on time, and not avoid the phone when it rings in case it's a creditor, and admire their healthy share portfolios; and feel NO regrets.  Hell, I wouldn't.  I actually had a chance to be a sugar baby many years ago, when aged in my early twenties (or is twenty-four mid-twenties?).  A man in his forties had become rather infatuated with me, and offered me a nest egg.  I was so damned embarrassed, and I knew the guy was married with a family, and I said no.  I didn't like the idea of being beholden to anybody. Years later, as I've struggled with bills, I have occasionally wondered should I have taken up the offer.  At the moment, my finances are not all that bad.  But there were times.... 

After attending my fourteen-year-old's soccer game, I went to the gym.  I take this opportunity to offer to offer a slow, sarcastic handclap to the imbecile who screwed on the attachment which holds the 'cushions' for the calf muscles on the leg-curl.  So tightly was it screwed, he might just as well have soldered the bloody thing.  I couldn't loosen it, so I couldn't adjust it to where I like it, and I couldn't lie face-down on the leg curl and place my calf muscles in a good enough spot to make efficient use of the machine.  There was only one other person at the gym, and it was a female staff member, and like me she was not a particularly robust specimen.   We could not loosen it, and I missed out on doing those all important leg-curls to help tighten my glutes.  If my arse starts to travel southward, I'm holding this imbecile personally responsible.  Oh, who am I kidding?  My arse has probably already packed its bags, and has its passport and traveller's cheques in in a safe spot in anticipation of the journey.  But I was not happy.

What I've just been doing is indulging in some guilty pleasures, especially watching footage of the Kiss 1980 Sydney concert.  How awesome were these guys when at the top of their game?  I also watched Ace performing 'New York Groove' at this concert, and the fact that Ace really can't sing for shit exacerbates the guilt in watching this.  However, watching this footage is making me bummed because, despite my finances being not TOO bad, I really cannot afford to go and see Kiss when they tour Australia later this year.  Now, if I'd only taken up that bloke on his offer to provide me with a nest egg all those years ago, I might be painting up (as Ace, naturally), and heading off to whatever Arena.  Should I try and drum up some kind of time-travel De Lorean and advise my much younger self to take this bloke up on his offer?

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