Another one bites the dust...

It has been a significant while since I bloggeled something worthwhile other than some crazy excitement about SNOW. (LOVE THE SNOW!!!!!)

So, here we go…

Figure 1. You Know Why!!!

The goldfish of the previous post turned out to win Goldfish Magazine’s Asshole of the Year 2010 award. What a chump. From texting me daily, hanging off my every word, seeing each other daily … it all kinda crumbled on one Friday night. I tarted myself up. Looking hotter than Maverick in Top Gun and he had tickets to that danger show! We went out, and what fun we were having. As the night drew to a close, and there had been much flirting, we decided the only thing to do was to hit up the gay bar in Clapham. A place less seedy than Risque but filled with beefy men on the prowl nonetheless. I walked in, and in true spamoni style, the men melted and I could hear ovaries pinging all the way back to the bathroom. Luckily, I had my housemate with who fended off the rather forward, tall, dashing, attractive and defined men who kept hitting on me. But no, I flapped my little fins and swam about after my goldfish. Who, by the way had no-one hit on him. (yet) So we continue dancing around and on the stage where the hotties were. All is going well, and I turn around and get distracted by a shiny bauble on the white Christmas tree, only to turn back and see my goldfish in the arms of a strapping Australian man. They are chatting rather too close for words. And this leaves me with a few choices:

1. Get crazy bitch on his skanky ass and throw-down like a bunny boiling kugirl and follow my crazy throw-down with a dramatic storming out of the establishment

2. Get my fighting nails on and punch both their skanky lights out

3. Remain dignified, strap on a smile with a twinkle in my eye and pretend like I don’t care

Well, only moments later – in complete irony to the song “Time of my life” blaring over the speakers, he kissed the Australian. There are no words to describe the sinking of my heart, the freeze frame of them snogging away illuminated by the glow of the Christmas tree to a rather fabulous song. Fail. So I continued to opt for choice 3 and only after I received a patronizing pat on the shoulder and a smile from him, did I decide that it was time to leave. After leaving in a dignified exit, I only find the bloody slimebag running after me trying to make plans for the next day and asking if I wanted to go home together… I’m sorry. What part of “you were just kissing OTHER people and thus will NO LONGER be kissing me” do you not get. Dumbass. I got one SMS from him the next day, completely ignoring the situation. That was the last I heard or saw of that fishy. Pity. I had a lot of hope in that one… But London is a big ocean, and i haven't even tapped into my A-game yet... I'm just testing the waters. Wait till i'm staging my own coup d'etat on the throne of the village!!

And, so now, we fast forward through a SANTA CONVENTION! Oh hell yeah. I got dressed up in a santa adult-babygrow and paraded my drunk-ass through London with thousands of other santas. We had everything from Lady Gaga Santa and 80s Madonna Santa through to fat santa, obese reindeer, pirate santas, elves and of course us… Nap-over Santas! Hehe.

London continues to be utterly spectacular and fabulous and I brim with happiness despite it's ups and downs and ego-denting and ego-building!

Figure 2. I'm snow happy right now!!!! :)

It is nearing the end of a hectic week. Many ups, a few downs, a few late nights of working. And today, the bloody data entry beat me again. I am incapable of entering data correctly. I cannot get anything to balance because i keep entering a number wrong somehwere... Clearly a 4 year BSc degree that cost exorbitant amounts of money has done me wonders… NOT. As I struggled not to burst into tears on the tube whilst the realization dawned that my entire future in accountancy hangs on being able to correctly enter data, I stepped out of the station to a gentle whirlwind of large snowflakes falling gently down through the golden glow of the street lights. I could not help but crack a smile and ended up beaming from ear-to-ear as I walked through the crisp air, as the snow fell thicker and thicker, beaming like a kid at a cupcake buffet much to the bemusement of the grumbling locals. Snow cures everything. And wine. I had snow. Now I’ve had wine. Double BAM!

It’s almost Christmas. I’m still not sure on my stance about Christmas. I suppose it is rather lovely isn’t it…

Well, I oscillate between two of three of the HJB hunt.

· House – Tick

· Job – Sometimes tick

· Boyfriend – Sometimes tick

BAM!

Tea with a Queen

Figure 1. Nope, not this Queen, but still a queen none the less

Well, here is the breakdown of last night's date nite...

so off i trundle (tarted to the 9s and beyond) to Cubana. had on a hott blue v-neck, tight (or rather used to be tight...) blue jeans, black boots, hott belt. straightened harres, make-up on and smelling like sex in an eau-de-toilette.

he arrived a tad late. silly hooker. late never flies well with me, but i let it slide. so after he minced in (yup, he minced, like a tranny in 13inch heels - it wasn't his best start) and sat down, we got to talking. and he is a barrel of laughs! i looked past his flappingness, limp wrists and rather flambouyant language and just enjoyed le company and les cocktailsssss - all of the really strong ones. it's how i roll. i'm hardcore now! we laughed lots, discussed so many things then got kicked out the restaurant cos they wanted to close. so i suggested wine at my house. we trundled home and started on the wine - at 1am ... never a good idea - and, the more drunk i got, the more i looked past his queen of the village-ness and had fun with him. also, the more keen i became on bedding this one! he eventually worked out all the hints and some kissing went down. that's it.

then it was 3am and i decided it was bed time. he stayed over. yup, in my bed - i tried to let my space be invaded, rather unsuccessfully though. but i made him be a good goldfish and keep his panties on. besides, by 3am i was far too tired to actually get involved. anyways, he turns out to be one of those clingy-holdy types. so it did wonders for my lack of sleep having to squirm away to freedom on the precipice of the bed - only to be apprehended by his flailing arm as it wrapped around me merely moments after my successful escape! 6am broke fresh and crisp and i kicked him out into his small tin-can vehicle (yes, i am judging... i hold reserve on vehicular transportation, but little biscuit tins with marie-sized wheels and the body of a roll of tinfoil... come now... a pink tricycle with bells and pictures of unicorns on it is more socially acceptable than one of those tractors). as minced and flapped and twitted (yup, he did a triple whammy and limp wristed, bum waggled and tongue warbled) his way to his car, he looked back with *sigh*, unfortunately, that horrid look of longing and happiness and affection towards me - eugh. it's enough to make one vomit at 6.30am. sadly i think this one is smitten. time to set it free... we'll make better friends, but unfortunately for him, there is only room for one royal womyn in my village, and screw the princess, i'm the queen bitch! Plus, he is:

1. younger than me - fail... (a baby goldfish)
2. a student - fail again...

upon return to my room, i then had to spend a good 15 mins cleaning it and straightening out the linen and pillows and trying to get my space back into it's pristine virginal condition that it was in to start with... i need to get these space issues looked at. i also gave him a strict no-touchies rule last night, so he could only look at all my bedroom paraphenalia and not touch it.

poor little goldfish.

Time to find myself a new one. i'm sure there is a straight-looking wife-beater wearing questionably straight jock out there somewhere....