"Roorooroorooroorororoooorooroo!"
What a bizarre evening.
I was feeling a bit woogy after all the stupid tests and blood-taking yesterday, so Foo and I decided to go have a huge steak dinner to fill me up again.
Then, because I was antsy about not going to the gym, we went and did a lake walk instead.
^ NB: 'around' the lake, not 'on' it. Although, I am that good you know.
Foo does the lake walk a lot. If he's out of the house and I ring him in the evenings, chances are I will hear him clomping and huffing into the phone as he trumps along. I always ask him if he's met any nice girls, but alas they've all had something wrong with them. Weird nostrils, or somewhat.
(He's fussy.)
Last night however we did the full length of Commonwealth Park and up past the King's Avenue bridge around to the Boathouse. And then back.
And on the way back we saw two strange figures on a park bench.
Now you often see couples canoodling in the park late at night - nothing new there. This, however, was a whole new level of canoodling.
In the brightly lit area just next to Stage 88, about 6 or 7 metres from the main walking path, what I thought was a guy wearing pale coloured chinos turned out to be a man with a pale coloured bare arse and his strides around his ankles. His naked companion, reclining on the park bench, was keeping his hand warm for him (if you know what I mean) while she was extended the same courtesy with her hand cupped between his legs.
No shame, no hesitation - they didn't even flinch or look up when we scurried past giggling and gasping, scant metres from their bobbing nekkid booties.
They were seriously going for gold.
Now neither of us are what you would call prudish, but we have our limits. The fact that this couple were in such a well-walked and well-lit area leaves no hesitation in my mind that they were actively trying to be seen.
Dear me, well I never, etc etc.
.....................................................................................
The second fun thing occurred while driving home, just past the Defence College in Weston.
As Foo was sleekly tearing up the road I caught a glimpse of a pale blob moving on the side of the road.
My first thought was "Oh not ANOTHER naked arse", which quickly changed to "Dear me! That seems to be a large hopping marsupial on a direct collision course with our vee-hickle!".
What came out of my mouth was:
"ROOOROROOROOROOROOROORROOROOOROOOROOROO!!!"
Thankfully Foo managed to interpret my manic basset hound impression properly and engaged the ABSs with a screeching jolt.
The stupid animal in question took one look at the car coming towards it, froze, and then flopped on its side in our direct path.
We didn't even hit it! It took a dive!
It wasn't dissimilar to the obstructive flopping-in-your-path that Feargal does when she wants a belly rub.
So either Feargal's been teaching the local wildlife tricks, or it slipped on a banana peel. Either way, it looked really really stupid.
Roo got up, looked around, and scurried away over the roundabout. Foo thanked me for my insane Scooby-Doo impression, and out of gratitude granted me a single point-out-a-parking-spot-in-car-park privilege, which is something that normally drives him utterly bugshit.
(He was also somewhat edgy when we got home, and wanted to head back to the park with a camera. He claims it was merely to provide me with an accurate record for my blog so people wouldn't think I was fibbing, but I wonder...)

9 comments:
Hang on...isn't there a kangaroo sign thereabouts on Cotter Road, or are you two boons too cavalier about marsupial safety to pay attention to such bureaucratic piffle?
We read the signs.
The danged roos don't.
I think I've seen this same effect in martial arts. Big black belt swings punch at small student, but pulls it in with millimetres to spare, student still falls over as if hit, as his body refuses to believe right off that he survived the encounter.
And does Feargal ACTUALLY want a belly rub? I've been tricked by this particular cunning feline ruse on a number of occasions by other members of her treacherous species. You go in for the belly rub, but on contact, four sets of claws clamp into your wrist like a furry, but exceptionally painful, bear trap.
I've learned from this experience, and no more will I be fooled.
Dude, she's a Ragdoll.
They're fur-covered bricks of Valium.
Any displeasure on her part is relayed by passive-aggressively turning her back on you. And that's all.
Ah, Foo likes to watch. You should have let him go back, what a treat!
Some cats really love a belly-rub. My two have been trained from birth to love them, because I need to rub cat bellies when I'm watching tv. They've never complained about it.
I must have just been unlucky, on numerous occasions.
It's weird, because generally animals love me, and even the most hostile of pets is soon sitting on my lap or leaning against me. Including one persons cat who they said was completely insane and I shouldn't go near (y'know the sort, they sit there purring as you stroke them, till they get bored of the attention, then switch to a new game called "Shred the human").
When do you get your results?
my cat flops over like that - but only the foolhardy would attempt the belly rub. seepi
See! It's not just me!
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