Fabulously Filthy

Women are naturally charming.
I can attest to that.
Men just become charming when they shave and shower and put on some decent clothes.
But women, ah.
They are just so irresistable, zit cream and all.

Every afternoon, coming from work, I walk into a room full of garbage.
Hairpins and dangling earrings on the floor,
newspapers and wet towels on the bed,
this morning's wheat bread on the bedside table,
and a trash can full of used tissues.
I take a hot shower,
go down and try (with all my might) to prepare a decent dinner for myself.
A meal that consists of uncooked SPAM and canned mixed vegetables is about as decent as it gets. OK.
Then I head to the living room to watch some Desperate Housewives.
Aren't they fabulous.
My feet are on the glass table and my spoon is somewhere on the floor, when it's not in my mouth.
Doesn't sound very appealing to you?
It should.
I am a woman.
That means, while I do all these things, I hum and gallop and trip on my own feet and smile at how my hair looks so bleah.
Ain't that cute to look at.
As opposed to an average man going about his afternoon routine.
(I'll leave that to your imagination, I don't have time to describe the whole thing.)

And the nicest thing about it is, I never smell bad.
Wow.
The mosquitoes in the office are just a coincidence, thank you very much.
And nobody has ever told me off for being a slob.
Some never notice that side of me, and some even think it's cool.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa...choo!

I dated this man who claimed that he took a shower at least three times a day.
Well, there are some days that I just don't feel like bathing, and I turn out to be fabulous.
Maybe he needs to shower at least three times a day to be half as fabulous as me.
Kidding.
But there IS some truth to that, if you think about it.
So I am not ashamed that some men take more time to groom themselves.
They just need to keep up with us. Wink.

Every single day I hate Fifi's guts for leaving her dinner on her bed and leaving the lights on until the next morning. But I get up in the morning and smell the breakfast she has prepared for me, and I forget about hatred.
And those heavenly curves (OK I talk like a man, which i HATE).
See how powerful women are? They don't have to utter a single word to proclaim their cuteness.

My housemates and I were having dinner last week and I told them about Desperate Housewives, how addictive the show was.
They didn't seem enthusiastic.
"Oh well, it's a girl thing perhaps."
After two days, Colin bought the whole season one.
I waltzed across the living room and put Disc One on in sheer excitement.
Of course I had seen the whole season before, but I could not get tired of DH.
That night (on Wisteria Lane), Mike and Colin joined me to see what "this rubbish" was all about.
And since then (except for the F1 race last night), we've been watching at least three espisodes every night. And I don't mean watching for leisure.
One of them (I won't say who) can't take his eyes off the Tv screen, and when he wants to get something from the kitchen, he speeds away like his ass is on fire.

TV stars, the struggling twenty-something.
Women are just addictive, aren't they?


"I THINK I'LL BRUSH MY TEETH LATER."