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I live in a country where the average height for males is still under 5'9".It must be so unnerving to live in a country full of toy like cars
Well I suppose that's an unfortunate thing about where you live, @Bad Hippo, albeit a hilarious one! However, the worst thing about Scotland for me, apart from all the wasting daylight with the most inclement golf this side of the Arctic Circle, is all of the women there perpetually wearing giant wool sweaters, uncomfortably hiding themselves, signifying that no man will ever desire them and any sex with them will forever be just a mere passing thought (Thot!), if it comes to mind at all! This of course leads to the best thing about Scotland, the whisky! In fact, that's the only Scottish thing I'm allowed to get remotely close to or enjoy these days between the ages of 18 and 25! At least with that tremendous asset, there's no golf in brutally stinging sideways rain, powerful enough to remove flagsticks out of the ground on their own, untouched by man, and there's no scratchy native wool sweaters on women, also untouched by man!I live in a country where the average height for males is still under 5'9".
It's like being Gulliver in the Land of Lilliput.
You've clearly not been in any of the major Scottish cities on a Friday or Saturday night: no matter the weather, snow, rain, or howling gales, the women out partying/clubbing typically wear skimpy outfits, exposing legs, thighs, and as much cleavage as they can get away with... [Women are crazy, remember. Weather conditions take a back seat to looking glitzy and glamorous (or cheap and tacky)...] As a general rule of thumb, you can gauge how old the ladies are by how much they have on show - the younger they are, the more flesh is on view. Also, as a general rule, they more flesh on show is proportional to how much alcohol they will consume by the night's end, so it's not uncommon to see half-naked tarts getting railed in alleys, taxi-ranks, or in the darker corners of nightclubs.Well I suppose that's an unfortunate thing about where you live, @Bad Hippo, albeit a hilarious one! However, the worst thing about Scotland for me, apart from all the wasting daylight with the most inclement golf this side of the Arctic Circle, is all of the women there perpetually wearing giant wool sweaters, uncomfortably hiding themselves, signifying that no man will ever desire them and any sex with them will forever be just a mere passing thought (Thot!), if it comes to mind at all! This of course leads to the best thing about Scotland, the whisky! In fact, that's the only Scottish thing I'm allowed to get remotely close to or enjoy these days between the ages of 18 and 25! At least with that tremendous asset, there's no golf in brutally stinging sideways rain, powerful enough to remove flagsticks out of the ground on their own, untouched by man, and there's also no scratchy native wool sweaters on women, also untouched by man!
Forgive me then for dating myself from the last times I was there when it was all sideways rain, prudish woolen-clad damsels looking at the ground as though they were studying it for tests, and more blend and single malt consumption from highlands and lowlands than the law should allow.You've clearly not been in any of the major Scottish cities on a Friday or Saturday night: no matter the weather, snow, rain, or howling gales, the women out partying/clubbing typically wear skimpy outfits, exposing legs, thighs, and as much cleavage as they can get away with... [Women are crazy, remember. Weather conditions take a back seat to looking glitzy and glamorous (or cheap and tacky)...] As a general rule of thumb, you can gauge how old the ladies are by how much they have on show - the younger they are, the more flesh is on view. Also, as a general rule, they more flesh on show is proportional to how much alcohol they will consume by the night's end, so it's not uncommon to see half-naked tarts getting railed in alleys, taxi-ranks, or in the darker corners of nightclubs.
Sideways rain..... that makes me think you were in Glasgow.Forgive me then for dating myself from the last times I was there when it was all sideways rain, prudish woolen-clad damsels looking at the ground as though they were studying it for tests, and more blend and single malt consumption from highlands and lowlands than the law should allow.
I've been privileged to have spent time in Edinburgh, with the worst weather at Muirfield and North Berwick, as well as Glasgow, Troon, Inverness, Dundee, Aberdeen and St. Andrews during about three months over the years. Alas, I'm afraid haven't been back this century, owing to disabilities and attitudes prohibiting me from flying, "Will ye no come back again!", and all. I trust it's still there though, in all its glory and fierce patriotism.Sideways rain..... that makes me think you were in Glasgow.