When You’re A Boy
After last week’s hen night/day/extravaganza where all participants in the day trip to a shooting range were given stick-on moustaches, mine actually looked like it belonged on my top lip. In minutes my demeanour changed, and I started to walk like a man, talk like a man, my son. It occurred to me: I’m a good boy, I am. I suppose what I’m doing here is my annual Halloween post, because when I look back I’ve often opted to be a bloke. One year I’m Blackadder, the next I’m Zombie Rod Hull (complete with dead Emu), the next I’m Prince in his Purple Rain period. This year, at the annual Halloween Party of Legend, I’m dressing as a bloke but I won’t divulge as many of my co-halloweenies read the Misssives and these things are always best revealed on the night. But would I have liked to be a bloke? Hmmm…I think not. Here are my reasons: 1. Recent readers will have read that my Mum wanted to call me Kenny. No rock stars are called Kenny. And before someone phones in, you can’t count Kenny Loggins. He only did Footloose and that was ages ago.
So I’ll maybe not save up for the op and get my eye laser treatment instead of an expensive and painful trip to GirlstoBoys R Us.
And there’s always Halloween to indulge the inner geezer.
By the way, thanks for voting for me in the The Blogger’s Choice Awards. It ended today. I made a wee bit of a dent. The Misssives finished in 18th place for the Best Blog About Stuff category, which is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick and I believe I’m the only blog from the UK to make it that high, but don’t quote me. I know for sure I’m the No1. Transvestite blogger. Special thanks to those who commented- some of them words made me weep a bit. And if you’re sitting there going, “Aw man, I didn’t vote, I feel like such an utter git!,” then you can vote for me in the 2009 awards which start today. And those of you who voted for me originally can vote again. Chin, chin!
