Dames I Adore - Kate Gosselin

Kate's uterus is, I am reliably informed, now in the Uterus Hall of Fame. We men are intellectually aware of how one woman can have a litter of kids...and yet she remains the material of significantly awful nightmares. I have this vision of a never-ending expulsion of babies from between her legs.

However: Childbirth is but a tiny fraction of womanly skills, so let's not dwell. Even if I occasionally wake to the vision of Kate's vagina issuing new-borns like a barn-cat, that will not prevent me from seeing her for the woman she is and not a life-support system for that over-stretched cervix. Begone, obsession!

Kate is unfortunately defined by all the stuff we see surrounding her. Her ex-husband, for one, shouldn't be held against her. Neither should the decision to adopt a television network as her ninth child. And neither should the three plastic surgeons, the six agents, the fifteen hair stylists nor the fashion consultant on retainer influence us in our opinion.

Kate's a regular suburban girl who got lucky with fertility drugs. It's the same story the world over, as Angelina Jolie will tell you. Err, actually, that's not true, because Angelina's a nutburger and adopted....how many of those kids?

Anyway, Kate's attraction to me is all about her accessibility. She's the girl-next-door with whom we played pong-knuckle in tenth grade; she's got that sturdy fetlock look that regular guys recognize as valuable when pushing the mower; and darling Kate loves her false titties as much as any frottage aficionado.

Kate might be a bossy ball-buster, but there's so much more to adore. If you're reading this Kate, how about a make-out session and a little game of stink finger? You know you want it.



Bottoms Up, Octomoms!



Kate at her best from England's second-best newspaper [link]

She's Into Superstition.

Me, I'm a Taurean.

That makes me:

Patient and reliable
Warmhearted and loving
Persistent and determined
Placid and security loving

On the dark side that makes me:

Jealous and possessive
Resentful and inflexible
Self-indulgent and greedy


Some kind of package, eh?

Astrology is a truly clever invention, because it preys upon our need to know. I want to know how the world views me; I want to know how I fit; it's fascinating to predict the future; it's comforting to know I'm better off with a Virgo than an Aquarian.

The fact that astrologists, palm-readers, psychics, seers, taroists and sundry other future-gazers can still make a living shows how desperately we are - we need to know anything about ourselves we don't already know. Fear of the unknown, especially the future, is a vestige of our less knowledgeable past.

But not knowing the future is a problem only if you think it is. Imagine if you had a printout of the course of your life from now until the hour of your death; would that make the days between now and then less stressful?

See, I think that remaining calm in the face of chaos and the randomness of the universe is the great adventure. If you accept the unknown, you don't resent what happens, and if you can stay flexible and philosophic, you don't mind what happens.

That's why I would think carefully about a girlfriend with a heavy astrology or tarot habit - it strikes me as slightly nutty. But that's because I'm a Taurus, and we can be judgmental.



Bottoms Up, Stargazers.




Mrs Ann's sandwich board from here [link]