Friday, February 23, 2007


It is Friday night and I have returned home from work, yet I feel empty and strangely passionless, kind of like how I imagine a date with a quiet Scandinavian clotheshorse would be. (Nothing's girlfriend recently commented on how most fashion designers are Friends of Dorothy and don't care much for the fuller female figure, preferring instead the boney boyish lines of androgynous stickwomen which I found fairly interesting, but anyway...)

I am back home. Large Northern Flatmate has just left for an evening swim looking like a large bald Northerner condemned. I would normally head off to Tescos now to indulge in my regular Friday treat; a shit pizza and a shitter bottle of red, but I can't be bothered. I'm too tired and I want to avoid junkfood.

Instead I am preparing my easiest, most semi-healthy plat du Singledom, Tuna pasta:
Boil some dried pasta.
Add a tin of tuna and some mayonnaisse.
Wish you were dead.

On Tuesday night, I met up with Nothing and got pissed. Wednesday, I was mildly inebriated catching up with my Dad. Last night, I went back to Nothing to lift boxes up his staircase and discuss an offensive sketch we'd dreamt up - Crime Detective extraordinaire D.I. Stephen Hawking. We even discussed filming it. I don't think I could possibly ask my Mum if we can borrow her motorised chair, her only means of moving, just so we can be childish and film ourselves parodying one of the world's foremost thinkers.
But I could ask.

Today, I was hungover again and could barely keep my eyes open. Nipping out for a sandwich, I walked past a homeless gentleman who asked feebly 'Can you spare some change, guv?' Not wanting to pretend they're not there and ignore them (or give them any money), I always make a point of saying 'Sorry, mate.'
'Alright, Boris!' he yelled cheerfully in reply.
Dammit, I thought I'd outgrown that. So that's 'German Wimbledon Ex-Champion comment by complete stranger' number 1,306.
So I walked back and hit him.

I have uncharacteristically been leaving my bike at work every evening. When I cycled home tonight and it felt odd, as if I'd never done it before.

Even my stalker's texts have dried up. His last one told me to meet him in a pub and ask for 'Anders Nokram'.

'Strange', I thought, 'I don't know any Norwegians.'

Then I realised it was a rather simple anagram for Mark, aka Haggis, being very very bored in Boston.

So that was nice.

* Tumbleweed skips past *

Eurgh, this tuna tastes like Whiskas and I forgot to refrigerate my pesto and now its grown a beard.
I asked LNF before he left for the pool if he'd like to go out for a quiet drink tonight.

'Mnnn, could do,' he muttered distractedly as he headed for the door, as if he was contemplating washing his pants.

Christ, I'm as bored as the one interesting opinion Paris Hilton has skitting around the immense void that is her head. Nothing could perk me up right now. Normally, I want to do something, even if it's doing nothing in front of the TV. But tonight I am an absolute blank canvas.

What the hell has happened to my life?

Oh. Nothing. It's always been like this.

Perhaps tomorrow will be interesting. I'm off to Hippy Dave's girlfriend's birthday party in a beerhall in town. There promises to be lots of new women floating around who may end up regretting they ever talked to me.
Actually, I may pretend to have a girlfriend. The last time I did that (although I should add that I was actually going out with a girlfriend at the time), I ended up having illicit, cheating sex. I felt awful afterwards but a) My relationship with my then girlfriend was already in its death throes and b) I had illicit, cheating sex with a bisexual Swedish nymph and said sex was FUCKING BRILLIANT. I heartily recommend bisexual women as a carnal partner (if they let you), as they've made a conscious decision to choose cock that particular moment, thus resulting in a pretty wild evening - particularly if that cock is yours.

Hmmm, do excuse me for a minute, I'm just off for a very long shower...


Shoshana said...

Sorry you're bored :( Hope your weekend picks up. Or you find another bisexual woman. Oh, that would be picking up. Whatever, enjoy.

thegirl said...

At least you're not sitting in coughing your guts out whilst on antibiotics.

Hope you have fun tomorrow. I'll be sitting in coughing my guts out whilst on antibiotics.


Anonymous said...

This is a boring post. Run up the escalators and you will feel better.

la fille mariƩe said...

Anonymous, it's not a boring post... Fweng just has a boring life.

Oh, sorry, ducky... I started off defending your post, and got sidetracked somehow.

Hope a horny bisexual woman crosses your path this weekend. :)

fwengebola said...

Shosh ~ I think the law of averages has denied me my last pro-Sapphic Scandinavian. But I'll always have those filthy memories.
TG ~ Crap, you're still ill? On the bright side, you'll feel fabulous (my new slightly gay word for everything) when it's gone.
Of course, on the dull side, it'll take a few more days to finally be rid of it completely, days in which you can go back to work and still feel not quite 100%.
Anon ~ Oh dear, am I boring you? That's a dreadful shame. Perhaps telling me how boring you found it has alleviated that boredom.
You twat.
LFM ~ Thanks a bunch, ducks. Right, that's it. I'm thinking positive. I'm thinking a threesome. I'm thinking Lucky, Lucky, Lucky. Tonight, I will succeed.

Ordinary Girl said...

It's shit when you get those dreadful dull days! Nay mind, I am sure it will pass soon. (Hopefully in fast hot wet Vindaloo styley rather than the requiring prunes sort!)

CaliGirlinAZ1974 said...

Sounds like you just need a new stalker... ;)

(in my best spooky voice...)

"I know where you live...."


(Ok, I don't really. Just a new reader to your "fabulousssss" blog!)

luna said...

It's usual to feel depressed after a bout of flu.

If you're getting frisky tomorrow remember this: tuna breath kills.

VI said...

Boris Becker....

yum! (I keep TELLING you I like carrot tops!) ;)

Waynecoff said...

you jammy git, would swear but don't know you well enough, you got her ladyship writing comments on your blog, how did you manage that.(TG of course), anyway, nothing can beat two girls on the go, not unless you have them both on you at the same time, tip top, hat of to you for that one, at least you can always look back, I always do,
fucking brilliant, and fabulousssss sound even better in a welch accent.

isabelle said...

Well......did you have a fabulous time at said birthday party?

Hurry up and tell....I have to live vocariously I'm afraid....

fwengebola said...

OG ~ Thank you for alluding to diahorrea.
CGinAZ ~ Thanks for de-lurking, and welcome to Fabulousness.
Ok, just this blog.
Luna ~ I have brushed my teeth. Do you think you get the blues after the flu? It's a new one on me. But then I've never been waylaid like this before.
Vi ~ Boris Becker=Yum?
WC ~ Wayne, I pay people to comment here. You're the only one who does it for free. Good point about the Welsh accent though. I may consider trying it on in Cardiff*
(* Staring a lot, then going home to cry)
Iz ~ Look up. New post.

luna said...

Well,I read it in an Agatha Christie novel,so it must be true.
Actually,it is the main premise of one of her thrillers,and she was a trained nurse.

fwengebola said...

Getting depressed after the flu is the premise of an Agatha Christie novel? Do pardon me if this is over the top, but

luna said...

"Sparkling cyanide",according to the charming anoraks of ;P

(Handing you back your bollocks,as you'll need them more than I)