Senior readers who are advanced in conduct and in years may consider themselves beyond the realms of text language. If you are one of those lost souls, you might find yourself pondering the meaning of: ‘WTF’.
I would like to offer diplomatic options:
Why the face?
Who’s that freak?
Where’s the fight?
Who’s that female?
Why tiger face?
WTF is going on? (What the flip is going on?)
This year I turn fifty, and fifty shades of grey live upon my head. Colour camouflage is an easy option. The word ‘camouflage’ got my grey cells excited.
When I was a kid, most mothers had short, curly permed hair. I can’t remember any mums over thirty-five who did not sport grey pubic helmets. Basically, they all looked the same. They were the gladiators and forerunners of the Grey Power movement. I once asked a boy what his mum looked like when she was young. He said, “I don’t know. My mum’s always been old.”
These days we are told we can do anything—if we believe. I tried to believe I was young again and had a fancy car, but every morning both looked the same. The fairy-tale pumpkin never arrived. At that point the realisation dawned there was more to it; one must believe and do. I took action and did the deeds. I bought an orange pumpkin, and gave my car a facelift; it was easier than surgery.
Well, love it or hate it, I really don’t care. It’s done now, and my dogs like it. BTW (by the way), it was a grey car too. No, it’s not a cougar-car, dummy. It’s a tiger. Why a tiger? Well, why not? I’m not pulling your leg, and you best not pull my tail. Those claws are right under Red Riding’s Hood.
Lol! (Lovely old lady)
Jokes aside, the tiger is an endangered species.
SAVE THE TIGER
Paint your car today