I guess it's the Summer that makes everyone go wedding crazy. It's nice weather (optimum for weddings) and the older I get the more weddings are going on around Summer time. Which means there has been a lot of theoretical wedding talk going on of late. I was asked this weekend what I would wear if I got married. After some careful consideration I went with either;
a: A meringue dip dyed neon pink at the bottom; or
b: A playsuit with a massive train a la Katy Perry in the Hot n Cold video. I figure people reckon we're the same cos we have the same haircut so why fight it. That and I should really show the pins off whilst I can.
I got stung by a wasp last weekend. I cried. I am not ashamed of this.
I have fucked my blogger somehow. Apparently groundhog day is the 17th April. I really hope I can export the shit out of this. When MarBelle tells me how.
Oh and last but not least - not one but TWO moments of comedy genius this week
A not unhandsome man in the office who I have christened 'Dreamboat'. Which means that is the only name he has. That and when he walks past I sigh and ask those in the general vicinity, "Isn't he dreamy?". Unfortunately some people are taking me seriously and one girl went particularly batty screaming, "HE'S NOT EVEN RIPE, RIPE" (He's 22 by the way, I'm not a massive peado). My response? "I hear the less ripe they are the harder they are". Someone actually covered their ears muttering, "My ears."
Apparently parma ham gives you cancer. I eat it by the truckload. Whilst musing upon this to Monsieur B. I said how much of a shitter it would be if I got cancer from ham having given up smoking. "I have Ham Cancer, it said on the packet it's been cured for 18 months. The liars! There is no cure." I have entered the Shit Phone Hall of Fame. Surely a comedy award isn't far off?
Whilst languishing in an exile imposed upon me by my employers Royal Mail have been going about their duties in a most excellent fashion:
New (Old) Glasses Frames? Check
New (Old) Polka Dot Cardie? Check
New French Necklace: Visage Triste
Ah well, I only paid for it yesterday. They can't be that good all the time I suppose. Boo.
In other buying news I found this on the internets the other day. It's a shame, shame that a designer from L'pool has to sell his wares in the Americas. I won't be buying this but I like the premise a lot.
I have also been a naughty girl of late and bought things that I really shouldn't have but if they're in the sale I think it's sorta a given eh? Boots for £75 or the exact same pair but in tan for £35? You can't walk away from that. They'll blatantly do me until the pair that I really, really want (all £275 of them) are in the January sales.
I also got my hands on the She & Him album. I like it a lot even if it has a country and western feel to which inevitably ends up with a woman waling about how blue she is cos she is so very, very alone.
So it's no secret that I love French and France and I lament often (*sigh* "I miss Paris") that I don't have the money/time to go back. Damn you EasyJet and EuroStar for being so freaking expensive. However, two good Frenchie related things have happened this week.
1: I found this girl on the internets who makes the most amazing jewellery ever. Seriously quirky lovely stuff made out of metal and not plastic. I know. Who would have thought I'd step away from the plastic. But she doesn't sell it in the UK. I know what you're thinking, "Bummer". Not a bummer when you can speak French my whimsical metal necklace loving amis. Oh no. She's gonna sell it to me direct if I want and at a reduced price cos I'll be going through her as opposed to the shop. Bonus. Now I'm just waiting to see what the damage will be. Eeek.
2: Speaking of eeek, how about oops? During my epic commute to Middle Earth, I mean Kingston, I read a lot. A. Lot. And in one of the free papers they extolled the virtues of Oops hostel. I was planning on fucking off to Paris and staying in the Phillipe Starck designed hotel like a ponce but now I've checked this out I'm thinking why mug myself when I can use the extra dosh to bounce around the Left Bank buying books I don't understand and antiques that are probably worth pittance? + It's actually smack bang in the middle of my two favourite places the Latin Quarter and Bastille. I did always love a good protest. Even if I walk in to the middle of one by accident. Which has happened.
This happened today:
Older, blonde brother pulling younger, blonder brother around by the neck in St Pancras at about 6pm.
Dad: Merlin. Merlin. Now Merlin, stop playing up, keep walking. It's rush hour.
Wouldn't you play up if you were called Merlin? One day that child will turn around and say, "Yeah, yeah, get knotted Dad. How would you like it if you were called Lancelot. Nah. Didn't think so. I'm doing a Zowie Bowie."
EDIT: Oh I nearly forgot probably the best thing about today. Whilst cruising the internet looking for some hoes who like hard liquor and a good time I stumbled across an 80s oversized (as in longer than normal - the ones all in TopShop. You gets me?) cardigan. That's yellow. With oversized (this time just massive. Like the Millennium Dome is) black polka dots. And oversized buttons. That are carved flowers. You're thinking, "Why this cardigan sounds sublime, perfect. Surely the 80s men broke the mould when they made this. It can't get much better than this". Am I right? Am I right? Well, you're wrong. It can get much better. SHOULDER PADS. Whip me up a bowl of big oul crazy, I AM Alexis Carrington.
♥ Going a bit crazy in the 99p shop and having to remember that I am no longer a student
♥ Meeting up with HerrPoncetastique, DJ KG Extrodinaire, A Blast From the Past and the newest Landlord in town. Then getting disgustingly drunk and being very badly behaved but not remembering any of it thus receiving grudging forgiveness in the morning
♥Then spending the next day on the sofa cos I was really far too hungover to move. Apart from to the microwave for hot popcorn. Mmmmmmm
♥ Watching the rain come down and marveling at my psychic skillz on deciding today would be the day to be too hungover to go out
♥ Two Hop Poles extravaganzas each as good as each other. Complete with impressive moustaches
Michael: I don't have confetti. Do you reckon I can just throw stones at Catlow?
Me: I don't see why not. We could pretend we're in Afghanistan. She surely has enough flesh showing to justify a stoning.
Dr Chris King: Well, she has the use of the church she may as well get as much as she can out of it. Wedding and a funeral in one day. Nice.
Me: I think most girls feel at some point they'd like to be buried in their wedding gown.
All of the above was witnessed by a uni friend's boyfriend. Who we'd met an hour previously.
Some time later....and after two quickly downed glasses of champagne.
Photograher: Catlow's friends. Can we have Catlow's friends?
Elfin Erin: Oooh is this where we get involved?
Gathering around Catlow -
Dr Chris King: Oh I've forgotten what I was going to say.
Me: Was it something along the lines of must you wear red lipstick so your mouth looks like a massive gash? Cos that's what you used to say to me in uni.
Dr Chris King: Was it? Well it is true
Michael: Snort Splutter Snigger
Catlow: Right, what are you lot laughing at?
Some time even later when I'd crawled to bed because the bride told me it'd be a good idea
Dr Chris King - some what inebriated: So Catlow. Do you have any sluts for me to fuck?
Apparently Elfin Erin was inclined to say, "Oh yes. The prozzies we ordered for you are arriving in 15 so that's good timing". She didn't. She feared she'd be taken seriously.
Some time much later. The Morning After. Chris and me - the drunkest and the only ones up for breakfast:
Me: Are you up? Are you coming to breakfast?
Dr Chris King: I can't work the fucking shower, this is fucking ridiculous. This is fucking stupid.
Me: It's easy. You just twist the outer knob. Snigger
Dr Chris King: Nothing is fucking happening. There should at least be some basic fucking instructions.
Me: Christ. Right. I'm coming to do it for you.
Two minutes later Dr Chris King opens the door in his boxers and a shirt and proceeds to have a conversation with me with one leg up on the bed until I tell him to put his leg down because he makes me feel quite ill. The room is littered with detritus. Amongst the fallout are 3 condoms on the floor.
Me: Christ Chris. It looks like an earthquake has happened in here. Did you pull?
Dr Chris King gesturing to his fairly uncrumpled single bed and pulling more condoms out of his suit pocket: Does it fucking look like I pulled?
Me: Eight. Wow Chris. You think a lot of yourself. Oh well. Let's put the shower on for you.
Dr Chris King: It doesn't fucking work. It's fucked.
Me: There you go. It's on now.
Dr Chris King: Oh.
Me: Did you remember to bring toothpaste? I forgot.
Dr Chris King searching around backpack: No. But I do have a vibrating cock ring.