I used to play touch football every Thursday night, part of keeping my competitive juices under control by releasing them once a week. If I couldnt beat people up on the football team then I would have had trouble walking down the street without hitting someone. Nowadays my compeitive juices are kept in control by fighting my wife for the remote each night.

In our team I was the only white collar guy. We had chippies, sparkies and drunks. None of who had sat behind a desk for a day since they left high school.

They would take the piss out of me constantly about hands. I know this sounds odd but they had these old weatherbeaten dirty round hands and I had smooth baby clean hands with stamp pad ink and biro markings.

They had the sort of dirt that was in grained. It doesnt come off with soap but is more like a tattoo that shows just how hard they have worked. Man how I wanted those hands. Chicks dig working man hands.

Then Heidi and I went travelling around Australia. I did manual labour and I got those hands. I still have a piece of dirt under one of my finger nails that just will not ever come out. Those hands hurt. They bleed, the ache and they throb. Those guys can take their manly hands and stick them.

I am now happy with my girly baby hands. Sure sometimes I get stamp pad ink on them and at the bank I have to spend a little too much time counting money so they are festy and covered in other peoples god knows where it came from bacteria but that can all be washed off.

Weird thoughts huh!

Keep Smiling

Jason

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