Back to reality ...

Imagine the above situation if, when, you're up to your eyeballs with work stuff and crap and bullshit

Your holy grââââââl isn't a shapely babe, but a place to live

Somewhere where the kettle doesn't turn on when you flush the toilet
Where the lights don't go out when you try to re-heat last night's left-overs in the micro-wave
A place where gunfights, stabbings and racketeering is not that much of a common occurance

Somewhere a bit, y'know, relaxed
A bit safe
Normal

Imagine that you do indeed send out mails, just as above, asking for a minimum of info so that you know what you're letting yourself in for

The tasty blonde from "meet-me-i'm-easy" turns out to be a midden in the middle of some kind of rough looking concrete jungle where threre's nothing but boarded up store fronts and uncared for, rough looking, latchkey kids

The hot brunette is, in reality, a wasted, skanky looking hovel, where the guy from downstairs, in a drunken fog and unable to pay his bills, has recently tried to light a fire in his condemned fireplace, so setting alight to the best part of the whole building - how in the name of earth do you think you're going to rent your place at such an exhorbitant price (with a view of the sacré coeur, maybe, but it still resembles a kuckfing hovel, lady)

There's no way in hell that i'd be interested by the chestnut haired chick, who may well have room for a bit of maneouvring but her saggy, flappy, clappy kitchen cuboards just don't make me go all goosepimply all over ... well, they do, but not for the right reasons ... even if the garde froid built into the exterior wall does add a bit of olde worlde chutzpah

As for the leggy redhead .. well i'm just hoping that her two-up two-down will give me a bit of food for thought

I'm supposed to be out of here at the end of next week