How I left the poor Frenchie lost in the City of Evil

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OR: When I politely declined the offer of a bed for the night and went home…....

Male – check
Own teeth (all visible, not brown) – check
Hair – check
Sexy accent – check and check again!
Handsome – check
Funny with a capital ‘F’ for Funny AND French – check

Second date in Paris?  Don’t mind if I do Sir.

What’s not to like?

(thank you for the title monsieur)

There are some lovely people out there

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I was just returning home, minding my own business, looking at stuff and trying not to trip over ridiculously long extendable dog leads, with dogs still attached, when a young boy stopped me to hand me a flower and say he hoped it brightened this day.  (Rough translation)

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Restoring a little faith…..

Today is a good day.  Enjoy it.

Ooohh, a ‘non’ date!

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Finally, finally getting to meet the other Frenchie (this one hot, S if you read this, I had to say it!) My friends have been trying to orchestrate this for months!!!

We’ve been chatting a bit and we’ve both been bigged-up big time by our mutual friends. 

Can you imagine, if finally, it’s a massive disappointment? 

So this is what it’s come to

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As you get older, things start to change considerably and you start to notice a shift in lots of areas of life, like for example flexibility (OR lack there of, see ‘Things I learnt in 2013‘), the ability to bounce back from a mega tequila session-now approximately 14 weeks, three days and two and a half hours, grey hair, wrinkles and most notably, the demographic of men who suddenly find you irresistibly attractive.

For me, I’m very, very lucky, my choices are rich and endless.  There are the old boys for example, with an average age of 82, or, to give you a better perspective, a combined age of 533, a bit like the Rolling Stones. These are the ones who think they’re giving you that same cheeky eye they gave the chicas in Buenos Aires, way back when they had hair, that now sadly, is just an eggy-eyed squint.  They’re adorable and I love listening to their stories but…… To them, hilariously, I’m the hot young thing!!

Then you have the spitty, toothless ones.  These are my very, absolute favourites!  The ‘gentleman’ in question last night looked like he might not have even clapped eyes on a shower in at least a decade, had two teeth in his head and was making his way along with the unmistakable ‘smack shuffle’. If he’d had a dog on a string too, completely irresistible!!!!  Bin men, street cleaners, men on scaffolding (not exclusively mine to claim), in vans, thieves and tramps. Or wait, are those the ones I fancy????

On the completely other end of the scale, you have the boys.  Cheeky, bold, brave, young, young boys who like a MILF, but in my case without the M.  I’m a PILF!  Although my friends and I high five each others’ achievements when 20somethings chat us up, there is something stomach-churningly wrong about perving a man you quite possibly could have passed through your birth canal.

THAT, my friends, is the greatest form of contraception.

With those deliciously tempting choices I think I’ll stay single……

Call me old-fashioned

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……..but I’m a big fan of teeth.  Now I know that may sound a little weird, and maybe they’re not a massive priority (apparently, it would seem, not to all), but in a strange way, I kinda like them.  They’re nice things, you know.  I most especially like teeth when they are clean teeth.  ‘Visible from 50 paces’ filthy, dirty, plaquey teeth…… NOT so much.

Aaahh, teeth.  Teeth, teeth, teeth.  These things are nice to have, right?  They help to keep your face in vaguely the right shape and not collapsed all over the place, and don’t forget, they’re really quite useful too!!  For biting and chewing stuff, enabling you to eat and therefore stay alive. (My feral children would have good, strong healthy teeth from gnawing on the dog). See ‘Reasons why I don’t have kids #5.   Also they can be good for a bit of sexual nibblage too, but this is by the by, and not essential for survival.

So – and this is important information – if you spit your tobaccoey phlegm on the floor through the gaping hole in your face, try to smile at me with the two, brown shards that are left in your head and utter something vaguely rude/sexual/inappropriate (I couldn’t quite make it out BECAUSE TEETH HELP YOU SPEAK PROPERLY TOO!!), it’s VERY unlikely I will respond.  Or even acknowledge your existence.

Yours sincerely
Indignant of Barcelona

Thought for the day

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I bought some shoes.  No biggie.  I LOVE the shoes I bought, with actual, real love in my heart.  They are beautiful and sexy shoes. 

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I love you shoes…. x

I know that I am not alone in saying that, for the most part, the women love the shoes.  (Maybe apart from some of the locals who seem to favour comfort above all…..see below ).  I’m in very good company, as I don’t know many of my friends who don’t appreciate a beautiful pair of shoes, like they would do a work of art. 

 
For women, it is said, that wearing the perfect pair of high heels can give you extra confidence, a feeling of sexiness, even command.  You would never see a powerful woman in the boardroom sporting a bright yellow pair of Crocs.  Not on your nelly.  There is a psychological  connection that has even prompted scientific studies and books to be written about the subject.  Maybe. 

Also, urban legend has it that screen goddess and probably the most famous woman/sex-symbol of all time, Marilyn Monroe, took a little height off one heel in order to give her extra ‘wiggle’. 

Although honestly thinking about this logically, the most likely outcome in all reality would, I’m sure, have been the resulting appearance of a slight limp.  Hhmmm…..

I believe that beautiful shoes, like the general wearing of sequins in every day life can genuinely lift the spirits.

N.B. They can also if you are not careful, on wearing them for the very first time, give you the gait of a weathered navvy with uncomfortably large b*lls………

Do NOT wear these

And, because I care about you, here is a public health warning: 

DO NOT EVER wear the shoes on the left, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!! 

I have actually seen real-life women wearing these monstrosities in actual, real life on more than one occasion and the experience left me a little disturbed, traumatised even, if I can be absolutely honest with you.  They didn’t even have sequins on them.  What’s that about? 

(They upset me so much that I made the photo as small as possible and moved it far, far away from the beautiful shoes above).

Blog bl**dy-tastic!

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Well, on a scale of 1-OFF the scale excitement, I’m at just about blowing my t*ts off excited!!!  And that’s no mean feat.

The Secret Diary of Anne Pank is just a mere seven views away from 1000 since it began on 2nd January.   That’s one WHOLE thousand views of pages on my site.

So, thank you for looking, reading and I hope, enjoying.

I never thought I’d say the following, it’s like encouraging stalking and sounds ever so slightly deviant, but; please like me, please follow me, and I’d love you to share me with your friends!  No, really.   

Comment with your opinions, I’d love to hear them. 

Love
One VERY excited PANK!!
Xxx