Champagne Cocktails are evil

it was a night to remember

except I can't - any of it really

Today I had a coffee date with a boy I don't remember meeting.

It could've been all my fault - spur of the moment urge to go out dancing, one fantastic rubber-armed friend who agreed not to stick to her resolve to spend the night in when she heard that I feared that I was officially becoming boring. So with one enthusiastic 'well we can't have that then!' the night was all on.

I made the champagne cocktails. I shouldnt've. One too many (who am I kidding, try 4 too many...) later and we rocked into a bar and my friend got chatting to some lovely but unattractive guy. I remember the trivia game, I remember him losing and agreeing to buy us drinks. And that's the last thing I remember.

Both me and my friend both don't remember the night - but I didn't feel shabby the next day so I'm half suspicious our drinks may've been spiked, but it's hard to claim that when I know we both deserved to be pretty bloody drunk anyways.

So I don't remember getting home, but I woke up in the early hours of the morning, jumped out of bed and wrapped a towel around me (oddly enough not questioning why I was sleeping naked) and popped to the loo. Got back to my room, hung the towel up, turned round and got the shock of my life. There was a boy in my bed! I took a closer look, and he looked familiar, something made me relax a little, not sure what my train of thought was or if I was capable of logistical process at that particular point in time, but I just crawled back into bed and snoozed.

Some time later there was rustling and I wasn't brave enough to open my eyes and attempt conversation while he threw his clothes back on. There was a little bit of time that passed then a brief peck on my not-quite-awake face and he was gone.

but he left a note. His name (the only way I was ever going to know what it was) his number, and a kinda cute little message. All I knew about him was that he must carry a notepad round with him, his name, and that he couldn't quite spell acquaintance.

So I rang him and he was surprisingly easy to chat to, turned out he was a comedian (literally) and a fellow aussie - can't escape them!

but we caught up for coffee today and Mr Funny is a lovely guy... cute too!

First time I've ever had a second meeting with a one night stand. I'd told him on our first phone conversation that I remembered little of Saturday night, but today I came clean and told him that the sum total of all I remember of the night adds up to about 8 minutes. Doesn't seem to bother him - though it's the weirdest thing not have absolutely no memory of the first time you kissed a particular boy... let alone the first time you shagged him.

Definitely not one to tell the grandchildren.



oh - and the second time we kissed was fine :)

Nerds on the Pull

This - with love from my favourite ex-colleague (a bloke) in Australia, who scored an invite:

Google are doing the rounds up in Brisbane. I don't think they really want to meet me - I think its nerds on the pull. That's what I get from reading in-between these lines:

"we would like to issue a special invitation to the women attendees to join us for a pre-event cocktail starting at 6:30 pm. This would be a time for you to meet with some of the Google engineers in a more informal environment, and meet each other as well!".

I have never felt so wanted.

I can't believe they actually distributed that - so we can now surmise that theirs is a predominately male workforce, and the general corporate impression is that they need help meeting women. tops. way to pull, guys.

how embarrassment ;)

Mourning

...the sad and unexplained death of my ipod. This morning it just plain refused to turn on.

I can't turn anything on lately... not even my ipod. Oh the misery that is my non-existent social life. feeling it. Now I can't even distract myself with music!

but should I start to contemplate suicide, I shall remember these lyrics:

For billions of years since the outset of time, every single one of your ancestors survived. Every single person on your mum and dad's side, successfully looked after and passed on to you, life.

On the Edge of a Cliff - The Streets

In search of optimism...

blame my ipod, but does anyone else agree that these are just the loveliest lyrics ever -

How many times
Can a man watch the sun rise
Over his head
Without feeling free?

and this other verse almost makes me wish that there were many incredibly inappropriate men in my past whom I'd dated and fallen madly, passionately in love with...

- then I'd be able to read these lyrics with an ever-so-wistful sigh -

How many fools
Will I let unlock the door to my heart?
When I know that, I know that
They shouldn't have had the key

alas there are too few men in my past in general, only two of which have ever had the key to my front door... let alone my heart. Still, plenty of time to rectify that I guess!


(lyrics to Hot Tequila Brown - Jamiroquai)

I am a broken woman

first time I've been able to get to the gym in a while...

- it's been just over my week since I went public with my resolve to lose 2 kilos in 2 months

I hopped on the scales to discover not quite 2 kilos, but a kilo and a half - barely one week in and only 500g off the 2 kilo change in weight I'm hoping for

except that that is how much I've gained

I shit you not.

un-be-fookin-lievable

Swedish Meatballs

alas, I am at work. No nordic modern-day viking insisted that he and I sail off into the sunset. Bugger.

Actually, there was a complete and utter lack of gorgeous blonde-haired, blue-eyed anything - men or women. Seemed to be a lot of kids though - either they grow up ugly and brunette, or (my personal theory) they leave the country to become the exotic and envied gorgeous international students at universities the world over. Perhaps, as one friend suggested, it's only the blonde, blue-eyed nymphomaniacs that get the passports.

we'll never know.

Always the way

the 'couple' of drinks I decided to have with the work crew turned into many and many more, first at one pub, then a visit to my favourite cocktail bar to reacquaint myself with my favourite cocktail (it'd been far too long!), then traipsed all the way up to Angel for more drinks at a pub with some of my friend's RBS workmates.

Was ever so close to actually sticking to my resolve to just have one sociable drink and then go home and pack for the next day's trip to Stockholm. Politely refused a drink when offered... but then caved. Had my arm twisted. Damn rubber arm.

I was rocking around carrying a rather heavy belated birthday present - nicely boxed delivery of white wine and chocolate truffles that I had originally planned to consume for a less-than-healthy dinner. I love chocolate at the best of times but consuming them whilst drunk on the tube ride home and *oh* - they were manna from heaven!

Mind you, the cornish pasty I'd had earlier the night was also an absolute culinary delight to my alcohol-sozzled tastebuds.

I have no idea what a cornish pasty tastes like when you're sober.

Home at 1am and was still too drunk to even consider packing for Stockholm... however I did manage to remember to stick the bottle of wine straight in the fridge

some things you just do on auto pilot :)