Out and About with Miss Delish

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Sperminators! They are the largest growing problem in our community, if you ask me.

Just to remind you all before I go on, I was engaged to write articles for this publication with a view to being a bit of a gossip, and report all the comings and goings. That is my disclaimer! This allows me to touch on any matters that may raise a sore spot for some. Last month I discussed a particular matter that I encountered at a family event, whereby I unleashed a barrage of pent-up thoughts and things that generally bother me. Although it felt good to be able to say it how I saw it, I have been given subtle hints not to use such antics in the future. Therefore, I have to share gossip that is not so close to home. Fear not; I can focus my attention on the things that we see people do but never feel that we comment on out loud. Allow me to do it on their behalf.

Good Friday, Easter Sunday, Long Weekend, birthday parties – these are the things that have filled up my social calendar during April. I have spent a lot of nights ruining my alcohol free month, I have watched my friends fall asleep in their clothes in places that were not appropriate for sleeping, and, thank goodness, I have eaten the beloved hamburgers that I gave up for lent.

During that time I have been listening to conversations had around my table/bar stool/smokers’ corner at any given bar/café in the district. Do you want to know what the greatest concern should be for the young ladies of St Kilda at the moment? I’ll tell you: idiot men who continue to have unprotected sex and rack up the number of children they produce. I have heard of three losers in the last week alone who have once again impregnated single (albeit very stupid and irresponsible) women, with whom they are not prepared to have a relationship with.

I am aghast at the number of kids some of these guys have had with a number of different women! They seem to unleash their unruly sperm periodically, sometimes bi annually, sometimes tri annually, and then sag and shake their empty heads and shrug their shoulders – as if to say “why me?” The life these blokes lead follows an astoundingly similar pattern: most don’t have steady work (plenty of time at the work bench though); they drink on a nightly basis, even on school nights; many of them dress as though they were sixteen, with baseball caps backwards and jeans hanging off their useless asses; and they are all single.

Anyone feeling sheepish? Good, because I’m not done.

Part of the blame must, of course, rest with she who opens her legs for said loser and allows herself to be put in such a position. But I am willing to bet that all of these girls find themselves in this pickle for the first time. Women tend to learn from their mistakes, if the mistakes are big enough. You would think that the idea of morning sickness, of having to carry all that extra weight for nine months, of having to be responsible for housing and feeding someone other than themselves for at least 18 years, to have little time for yourself and to do all the things you enjoy doing, would be enough incentive to make sure that women insisted on using the world’s greatest pharmaceutical product known to man.

Don’t get me wrong. I am sympathetic to both parties. What I can’t understand is how some men manage to do this time and time again. Getting someone pregnant once can be put down to one-too-many drinks, to getting carried away by the romance of the evening or to youthful exuberance. But I know a few specimens who have three and four children roaming around, all to different women, and all costing them the minimum financial amount imposed upon them by the family court. One would think that, after the first pregnancy they’re partly responsible for, they would change their behaviour and wear protection, if they can’t keep themselves above the knicker line.

The reason I bring this to the attention of our women readers is to help you to, hopefully, be able to spot one a mile off. I am annoyed when I see mister ‘hat backwards’ sniffing out another unsuspecting pretty flower on her girlie night out at the Vineyard or Big Mouth, who is dressed to the nines and accepting colourful shots that will surely lead to mediocre romps. I am sad when I see her, a year later, pushing a pram down the street looking lonely and aged. However, the thing that gets my goat the most is the self-pitying, puppy-dog eyes that peer up from the faces of the whingeing sperminators when they tell me their tales of woe. If it was the law that all unplanned children be sent to live with their fathers, I would bet my money – all of it – on the fact that this situation would be rectified quick smart!

Tips for the sheepish:

Sperminators: buy endless packets of Skyns! And, before you make your move, consider that you may have to hand over 30% of everything you earn forever to the woman standing in front of you – a woman who you probably don’t like all that much.

Silly girls with gaga eyes for above Sperminators: see the gp, go to the supermarket, and remember: it’s all on you. Have you heard the phrase: “if he didn’t marry her, he won’t marry you”? Well, try and keep it in mind. And if all that advice doesn’t work, consider this: do you really want to have to introduce a ‘cap backwards’ to your family as father of your future heir?

See you in the Village!

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