Hot Pink is a regular column on nzgirl that's sure to have you in stiches! Don't miss your weekly fix.
To find out all about its author, Penny Ashton, just click here
Well congratulations. If you’ve been reading my column since the beginning it is officially our FIRST BIRTHDAY! We’ll be walking any day now and to celebrate why don’t you send this link out to five friends who you think would enjoy the column and encourage them to do the same? None of that “If you don’t send it on within 15 minutes your cat will die kinda bull”, just send me out to anyone you think could do with a giggle every Thursday, (oh and to any hot single boys too).
Men do some interesting things to bring us to their attention.
For example when boy racers yell out to us from their cars what do they think is going to happen? Do they honestly think because they’ve screeched “NICE TITS!!!” from their car that I’m going to flag them down and say; “OOhhh OK, coz you said you liked them I’ll rub them against your wanger.” ??
More than likely they’ve had a few too many Fantas and coloured lollies and are mainlining the Neanderthal within by grunting and touching themselves under the dashboard.
Ever since man has had eyes to see (or arms to build things on a building site) he has been gesticulating at a possible source of saucy pleasures, just because they’re there. A bit like Edmund Hilary and Everest. (Not that I’m suggesting I’m a huge mountain and men require crampons to climb my hills and valleys, but you get the idea.)
But where, one may wonder, did the first Neanderthal man make the first grunt at the first cave-woman? Well I believe the answer to that is, in Italy.
Now don’t get me wrong here, I think I’m attractive enough. I have nice bluey/grey eyes, pretty full lips and 32G cups, but ever since I failed to get into Miss Waikuku’s semi-final in 1985 I’ve realised I’m no Lorraine Downes.
However in Italy apparently I am. Having men leaning out of car windows waving and whistling, and even one coming up to me in a bar to say his friend was in love with me because I was so bellissimo, has been all very amusing. My friend and I were sitting there minding our own business when a pack of boys descended on us all murmuring about how beautiful we were. Uh-huh.
They even touched our cheeks and kissed their fingers if you please. Never mind the man who was supposedly in love with me was 20-years-old with the worst undercut in the world and spoke no English, he was in love.
We gesticulated at each other for while and it was quite fun but I soon packed up my gorgeous self and headed for bed, alone! (Well actually my friend and I were sharing a double bed because we’re cheap, purely in a platonic manner of course.)
You do get a bit sick of all the attention in Italy but at least for the most part it’s harmless and it is generally more charming than New Zealand male equivalent; “Nice tits, do you wanna pie?”
Sardinia had beautiful beaches, beautiful gelati, beautiful little towns, and apparently three beautiful Antipodean women visiting.
How nice.
Penny
Last updated: 30/04/2008
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