Not a woose

Some one I know has a little problem, or maybe not. He'll watch a movie or listen to music he likes and for some reason just cries. This leaves the poor old sod open to jibes of "woosey" and "you got more hormones than a woman" but he can't help it, he's just sensitive to things. And a nice bloke as well. Or maybe it's just better to let it out than keep it in. Crying I hear is actually good for you, the tears we release also take away chemicals or so 'they' say, which are built up through the stress of everyday living. Although I'm not entirely sure of who "they" happen to be, I'm sure it's true though.

I've spent a wonderful week away in the company of Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. I got told off for being untidy. For being lazy, for being a woose for enticing Rock Chick into arguments. But regardless there were a few laughs along the way. I found as I was leaving Rock Chick actually smiled rather than bite my head off. She has a very nice smile although this seems to be matched by a liking for the macabre, such as TV shows about killers or even books about them. That's not to mention horror movies. Sparkling Eyes as usual is an unusual and beautiful woman challenging me whenever she so felt the need. I expect I deserved every bit of it, but regardless I come back for more, it must be something to do with loving her. Funny thing love. It sure makes into a different person, unless you happen to be a woose already.

I tried the advice of Bonner man, a gentle giant who looks more like a don't-mess-with-me-giant cos he'll eat you alive. I tried to develop the stare. It's the special stare you give when a man has to give it. One which warns others, you mean business. I spent all of 3 seconds looking in the mirror to perfect it. And am afraid it didn't work. Rock Chick saw through me. In a turn of events she then gave me her version of the stare. It worked. Bloody woose. That will be the last time I take Bonner man's advice.