To kick or not to kick....
Written at 1:05 p.m. on 2005-11-15
I'm giving very serious consideration to whether it would be worth losing my job for the satisfaction of kicking the accounts assistant in the arse. Perhaps I'll toss a coin.
In other news the wedding I went to on Friday was BRILLIANT! I didn't know anyone there so I didn't have very high expectations but I made some lovely new friends, got roaringly drunk, had a nice dance and woke up at 5am fully clothed (apart from one shoe which still hasn't turned up) and with all the lights on. Spent most of the evening drinking and chatting with a girl called Suzanne and her bloke. Didn't find out till we got home that M had had a run in with this guy on the stag weekend. Apparently the guy had randomly come up to M, without having ever met him before, and asked him whether he was gay. Now M isn't from one of the more enlightened areas of the world, and where he comes from this is akin to being asked whether he beats up old ladies outside the post office and steals their pensions. He didn't take it well, but they seemed to get on ok on the wedding night. Thanks to Friday, Saturday's achievements totalled walking the dog, making dinner and managing not to throw up. A job well done I feel.
For Saturday I bought some nice smelling moisturiser which tans your legs. This turned out to be a bad idea, as the stupid things have turned red and grown little angry looking lumps which itch. It feels like I've been attacked by a battalion of rabid fleas and I have to wash them twice a day in some medicinal stuff that smells like tar. Not quite the alluring effect I was going. Still, I'm sure there's someone out there who likes the inflamed look. M, in typical man fashion just laughs at me as I stand there grimacing and trying not to scratch. Just wait till the rabid fleas get HIM. Then we'll see who's laughing!
