I've just got back from a night out and I'm drunk and typing gingerly. (Except I'm strawberry blond. Win/ Win.)
On the tube after work, heading to a bar. I check out a gorgeous girl and she stares back hard, forcing me to go bright red and necessitate the need for me to pretend-fish something from my wallet ~ as if the thought of me needing to check for something from my inner pocket was something to go red by.
We head off to the hellhole that is the Walkabout on Embankment to meet Garry and Nick for a pre-Crimbo beer. As long as I don't get drunk, this'll be a walkover.
We drink. Then we head off to the Queen Mary boat on the Thames which completely disorientates me with its wobbling. This is fine. I'm NOT going to get drunk. A blonde girl with large breasts half-smiles at me. I make a mental to say 'Hello', then remember that I can't do that kind of faux-innocent thing unless all the scenarios fall into place, whatever that means. The opportunity doesn't arise.
We move on to the Princess of Wales. A girl with phenomenal breasts is nearby. I'm still not going to get drunk. Nick then announces that he wants £5 from us all to announce something. He and Charlotte are either A) about to have a baby or B) get married. Winner gets the kitty.
We go for A. It's B. The fucker's going to get married. Oh bugger it, let's get drunk!
Beers are consumed. Apparently, I'm Jewish.
Yet I'm phenomenally happy. After all, I have always been astounded by the majesty of life. I have no idea as to the why, how or because of it all, but a union of beautiful spirits seems to make some kind of sense.
I am now hammered.
I go home alone for some celebratory fish and chips at Turnham Green but they're out of cod and the fucker in front of me gets the last saveloy. I have to regale myself with a stale ham and cucumber sandwich from my local crack den of a newsagent.
I leave my usual comments on Girl With A One Track Mind as she's got a new post up and I have a thing for her. I check in to the kosher dating website I subscribe to. Really quite attractive girl I wrote to yesterday has read the devastatingly witty and clearly interesting email I sent her, and she's checked my profile out again. She has all the things I look for in a woman ~ breasts, a nice smile, a pulse.
I pause to take stock of my life.
Time for a comawank.