Heatwave and Hen night
Written at 1:02 p.m. on 2006-07-05
Heatwave and Hen Night
Bloody hell it�s warm in this office today. Possibly because it�s warm outside but not the kind of nice warm that you find on holiday, the kind of hot, muggy, damp warm that promises a huge thunderstorm later but which for now is content to leave you sat sweating in your office like a piece of limp lettuce in a suit. I�m sure you could fry an egg on my desk you know. What I love is that the government issued a heatwave warning to let us know, cheers Mr Blair, had you not chosen to tell me I wouldn�t have noticed that it was unseasonably warm. I can now understand why we pay them hundreds of thousands of pounds a year.
It was my hen day on Saturday and I survived! During the day we went to a chocolate shop and made chocolates. It was great fun, we made truffles, fondants, buttons and lollies and I now have a fridge full of chocolate shapes! The truffles were the funniest, you had to pipe them into little pyramids but we were well into the second bottle of pink champagne by then and Lou�s ended up bearing an alarming resemblance to small dog turds. By the time the truffles came out of the fried we�d finished the fourth bottle of pink champagne and possibly weren�t in any fit state to be rolling truffles into balls and covering them in liquid chocolate. I had white chocolate in my shoes and hair and somehow down my front and back. This was quite an impressive achievement given that we were wearing aprons. I�ll post the pictures when I work out how the hell you do that sort of thing.
In the evening we all got dressed up as gangsters and went out on the piss in Manchester. Given that England had just got knocked out of the world cup we decided to avoid the scally part of town and go for a posher bar so we ended up in Tiger Tiger. I hate that place but it was still a great night and I was thoroughly drunk. I had to do dares, I had to shout �I have got no knickers on� which is something that gets easier and less embarrassing the more you drink. I also had to chat up a man in French and get at least 2 details about him. Unfortunately in my drunkenness the only things I could think of in French were �The monkey is in the tree�, �Where is the station please?�, �turn right� and �Have you got a fish?�. Not questions designed to winkle out a vast amount of personal information. Micah�s cousin isn�t too pleased with us because we delivered his wife back as pissed as a parrot and apparently that is our fault. Coz a 22 year old is totally incapable of getting themself plastered. Ah well, such is life, it was a great night.
The one downer was the toilet attendant. Every time you went to the loo and then went to wash your hands she�d go �So what is it that you are going to buy from me?� I just said nothing coz it was my hen night so I had no money on me but she was a huge woman and she kind of bullied Cheryl into using some deodorant. When Cheryl put in 50p and went to leave this woman grabbed her and started babbling about how it should be at least a pound and wouldn�t let her leave! I can�t be doing with toilet attendants at all. I am not disabled and am perfectly able to get my own paper towel. I carry my own lipstick and powder and perfume, I don�t require anyone elses and I don�t appreciate people trying to intimidate me into giving them money just because I had the audacity to need a piss. It�s not on. But I wasn�t about to tell this woman that because she looked like she could rip off a man�s head with a single hand.
10 days until the wedding. How weird is that? This Sunday is my last Sunday as a single woman. That�s a very scary thought. It�s my last Sunday with my surname as it is now. Right, I�m going to stop writing before I scare myself!
