A phrase I've heard often enough. Honestly, sometimes I can't even believe myself.
Shameless Shalom is sometime surprised by how shockingly open I am in the department. Despite my reservations, I find myself astonished as well by the frequently outrageous comments that come out from my mouth. Hell, it wouldn't take much for any common stranger to guess that I'm quite the raging homo since it's pretty out there. Just a matter of whether you want to see it. Don't think I'd even need a pink feather boa or glittery heels to prove the point even.
Maybe if I came out in spiky red heels...
Then again, I might have overestimated some folks in my workplace. Nick at work for instance who hasn't even made me out as a voracious man-lover despite the fact that I practically slobbered shamelessly all over his abs.
And some of the girls in my department. Though I have to admit that I try to bite my tongue when I'm around the entire lot.
Just like yesterday when the girls in the workplace were all busy flipping through Cleo's Bachelor List again, oohing and gagging in turn depending on the luscious man-meat on display. Seriously. It was all I could do not to snatch the mag away for my own private perusal. Not that I find them all hawt ( with such awful tastes, the editors should consider hiring gay men to do the man-hunting instead ) but hey, I'm sure there's some sweet eye candy to be found amongst the common rabble.
You'd have to look really hard though.
Paul : OMG. He's bleeding hawt. I'd take him on a dirty, stinking toilet floor. Give it to me. I'm not letting you get a piece of him, you fucking whore.
See. I doubt the conservative tudung-clad mother superiors in the workplace would understand. Immediately struck by both disgust at my perversions and shock at my language, they'd probably suffer from collective swoons.
Of course then, I'd have the magazine all to myself.
Then again judging by the sad haul this year again, maybe I'd better get the hot Singapore version instead.