They did? You must look remarkably young then. :P

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'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

Afternoon all,

I have gone past the 'old and grumpy' stage. For me that was when my children were much younger and I found out there was no 'off' switch and they couldn't be traded in and the batteries were for life.

I have now reached a higher plane where I am 'unworried by what others think and am not ashamed to eat the last Tim Tam'.

The fact that some of the people I meet are the children of people whm I knew when I was 'young' (But still grumpy) and they have their own children no longer fazes me as I know what they must go through in their future existences and I can snicker quite callously.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A picture is worth a thousand words. A chocolate is worth a thousand pictures.

She does look remarkably young. Often mistaken for a pixie :P

Or just pixilated?

Depends on your resolution ^_^

I do it to scare the parents of my students, you know ^_^

Literally or figuratively?

Good question! Don't know yet ^_^

Like any true grump I mutter to myself and pointedly ignore things that annoy me rather than complain or express visable reactions of horror. When something toxic hoves into view like a rear end that has the jeans bagged up at the bottom of the cheeks, followed by three inches of designer label underpants and then two inches of piggy-bank-slot and I'm supposed to either accept this as 'fashion' or make some audible disparaging comment, I find that pretending that the scruffy lout is invisible provokes far more disappointment for them.

On the other hand, I simply love to go into some store where loud and/ or incomprehensible music is being played and ask questions about the price of something obviously expensive. I then follow this with a complete inability to hear any of the replies, cupping hand to ear, raising own voice to get over the din and finally claiming to be able to hear nothing because of "whatever THAT is, that someone's put on", waving vaguely towards the nearest apparent source of the cacaphony. Usually, if one waits, the music gets turned off - at which point you can smile, say, "Thank You" and walk out. If feeling verbose, I say, "Who is the music being played for in this shop? I only ask because it's obviously not for the customers", then walk out.
Now, that puts a spring in my step for the rest of the day.

I remember a comedian who once said that whenever he sees a person with multiple rings attached to their eyebrows, he is seized by a desire to hang a shower curtain from them.

Wow. I never pictured you as the sort who tries to make 15 year old girls cry, Robert... Good work!

15 year old girls are comprehensively the cruellest, most self-indulgent, specious and vacuous subgroup of humanity on the planet. Retail shops employ the most battle-hardened, granite-faced, flint-eyed hatchets from the top of the pecking order of this already blood-curdling flock of harpies. Anyone who "tries to make" them cry is destined for disappointment.

Is "flock" the correct term for a group of harpies?

I like to think that a group of 15 year old girls is a "vacuum".

I was *nice* at 15...

robert: Drop something cold down the slot. *eville grinne*

__________________________________
'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

Kitten, you and my own perfect daughter - when she was 15 - are obviously the two exceptions which prove the rule.

The piggy-bank-slot was once exclusively reserved for hairy-backed tradesmen such as plasterers, tilers and builders and they wore it with the pride of a general with his medals. As a young lad, I never approached a tradesman who was crouched on his haunches for fear of tripping and falling head-first into a suffocating death.

Unfortunately, nowadays, one can't look sideways in Summer without being greeted by someone's yawning chasm indecorously climbing its way out of ill-fitting pants. Even worse is the exposed rear part of g-strings which seem to stretch tightly up to the small of the back, looking so taut in many cases that my childhood phobia has returned and I'm sure that one of them will one day snap and whip up to take out my eye.

I think what you are seeing there is the Bogan (tress) Chick.

Scissors. Cut the string. :)

__________________________________
'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

I am always tempted to snip off those little tails of hair on people with short hair crossed with a mullet. I mean I Have to sit on my hands! It is awful! Especially on unwashed teenagers or that curious species known as the bogan.

ooh I hate those haircuts, especially on little boys, I mean, it's child abuse!

Oh, I dunno... On some fellas it looks okay. Although admittedly those fellas are Jedi...