What are your hands wearing this season?

I know you are probably expecting the Saturday shit list but to be honest, I just don't have anything worthy of my passionate hate right now.

My week has been all kinds of exhausting dumbness. Including such dramas as me worrying about losing my job in a months time. Or being told that someone I am very close to has advanced cancer. And also worrying that my husband has still not found new employment as yet.

Some would say the future is looking bleak for Mr & Mrs D right now. However, I'm not one of those kids that revels in my own pity, mainly because I don't care much for that sort of blatant self imposed misery. So fuck it, we'll deal to that little bitch called Life, not a problem. You just got to roll with her bull shit & remind her from time to time who's boss by giving her a quick sharp jab to the undercarriage. Thankfully this is something I'm rather excellent at.

Contraire to the tone of my copious hate rants, I'm actually a total optimist. Who would've thunk it.

Anyway yesterday I bought these......

Do you like what I did with this picture? Made it all mystical & shit. Oooh.

I know what you are thinking right now.

You: "What the fuck are you wearing on your hands?"

Me: "Oh yeah them. They are my hand socks".

You: "Hand socks you say. Well they look stoopid".

Me: "No they don't" *whilst second guessing myself & looking at my hands wondering if they really do look stoopid & what was I thinking purchasing such a heinous crime of fashion.

Me pauses then looks You right in the eye in complete defiance with a facial expression somewhat similar to this small Asian child.

Defy me muthafucka. Just once. Go on.

Doing a hand gesture that can only be compared to this......except maybe a little less angry.

Yeah you. Fark aaaaawf.

Me: "Nup. I totally rocking the hand socks".

They have sequins on them. Every modern girl knows that gloves, jazzed up in this manner, can take ones hands from ordinary day time hands to dressed up night time rave hands. So fucking versatile! And nothing says lets get wankered like a pair of snazzy gloved party hands.

Not only are my hands extremely good looking right now, they are toasty as, & just straight up gangsta. I haven't taken them off since I got them except for when I've been to poos & wees. Some would say they totally resemble a modern day, overweight, slightly less translucent, Mike Jacko gloved hands. But no, I couldn't take such glorious praise.

The moral of my story is, when it comes to winter, I will happily look like an asshole if it means I am warm. Luckily **Disco Stu also shares this attitude. There is no limit to our winter fuckwittery attire.

**For those that missed yesterdays post, Blake is having man-fro control problems. I've taken to calling him Disco Stu. He's not too keen on it. I think it's a completely justifiable nickname. I own the vagina, therefore I win.

And now for fun times with Becky & Blake story......

Years ago when Blake & I were mere friends, we were sitting in his old white Mitsi down the main street of town on a Thursday afternoon. People were loitering. One loiterer in particular whom to this day has only been know to B & myself as 'Hobo hands', approached Blake's side of the car, stuck his hands through the open window, asking for a cigarette lighter & some spare coins for the bus.

Blake reeled back on horror upon noticing Mr Hobo Hands had glove socks on in order to hide his fish like scaly & scabby hands that were peaking out the tops. Blake said a straight out no way to the guy then proceeded to wind his window up as fast as he could while Hobo Hands attempted to get all grabby up in his business. He wanted Blake's shit bad. I watched this all from the passenger seat side of the car WHILE reaching over & strategically locking all the car doors.

By the time the window was an inch from being closed shut, Hobo Hands realised his game was up & there was no way in hell he was getting his hands on anything in Blake's car. So he withdrew them just in time but not without leaving some leper hand scales smeared all over the car window

Well I fucking died laughing. Like howling my head off, farting & crying with laughter at the scabby hand shit all over the window while Blake sat dry retching in the drivers seat. From that day forth, we swore we would never don hand socks, because they were only for hobo's with leper hands.

Not so it seems. Hand socks are for cool guys too.

Peace!