bow tie

i wore a bow tie on saturday

i've wanted to wear one for 6 months 

out

publicly

but i live in albany

i wore a bow tie on saturday

the whole look was pretty fucking hot

its all about standing straight, tall and cocky

i got hit on the whole night

every chick out wanted to get in my pants

and into my bow tie

Hi

It was a bit weird when i said hi today.

You seemed nervous and twitchy...

...like maybe you were a little bit hi.

I asked you if you were hi.

You said no.

This makes me think you were hi.

That and the fact you went in to defence mode.

You said I looked nervous and twitchy.

And that maybe I was a little bit hi.

I said no.

It did make me feel a bit nervous because I was a little bit hi.

It made me feel a little bit twitchy as well.

I felt defensive so I asked again if you were on drugs.

You again denied and said you were tired from the long drive this morning.

I think you were a little bit hi.

But that could be because I was nervous and twitchy...

...and a little bit hi.

never take the jumbo cup (part2)

So where were we...

...Nighty and I get home and stand over Bonnie who is claiming she's 'fine, just fine', eyes in the back of her head, words slurred like someone who possibly hit their head quite hard. We bundle her into the car and head for the hospital. Bonnie drifts in and out of consciousness whilst the rest of us try to keep her awake with various insults and putdowns. She was called some pretty horrible names during the car ride but its not like she's going to remember, beside it's three against one anyway.

We pull into the hospital emergency drive and Nighty and Clyde hustle Bonnie through the front doors. I parked the car and arrive to find Bonnie has been admitted, Nighty is holding her hand and Clyde is now doing laps of the waiting room in a wheelchair and attempting to jump the chairs. Well if things go badly for him then at least we're in the right place. In all fairness, Clyde is beside himself, and a bit drunk, stressing for his beautiful Bonnie, but trying to keep control of the big guy was becoming an increasingly difficult task.

Anyway... i was rescued by Miss H, who has been released from the police station and has caught a taxi straight to the hospital. Whilst Clyde terrorized the rest of the hospital, Miss H and I sat silently starring at each other across the empty waiting room. The television played quietly in the background but I was in no state to be enjoying Halloween. Whilst Michael Myers beheaded and garroted above me I tapped my foot impatiently. Then Miss H said those terrible, terrible words...

"Are we still going to the club tonight?"

It was like suddenly she could read minds, and mine was currently in the middle of the dancefloor, hands in the air.

I chastised her anyway. Afterall we were here for Bonnie and we still didn't know her condition.

Hands in the air

Hands in the air

Anyway... we didn't make it to the club in the end. Hang on, thats not quite true.

After we were kicked out of the hospital... Thanks Clyde!!!, we headed home, dropping everyone at theirs, oh, except for Bonnie who was going to be kept overnight for observation.

Clyde and I arrived home and sat on the couch in a daze.

That was when Fitness Boy decides to wake up. He fell asleep the moment we got home from bowling and has missed the misadventures. We filled him in on everything he missed. And then he headed off to the club.

I sat on the couch for another two hours waiting for my heart to slow down.

I think it went back to normal some time on thursday.

don't blog angry. DON'T BLOG ANGRY

It's not like I didn't know where the conversation was going.

I think it was because despite you saying you'd been thinking really hard about what to say and that it pained you to say it at all, the fact is we've had this talk three times now. Unfortunately your short term memory is so fucked you can never remember we've had the talk. I used to think this was because you'd fucked yourself up with drugs but the more i go on the more i think it may be because you're stupid.

This is the pattern we follow.

We hang out.

We hang out more and more.

We stop spending time with anyone else and just stay together.

We start sharing a bed again.

We start sharing everything again.

Our hugs last longer.

Our kisses last longer.

The L word starts being bandied around.

We have the talk where we decide to just be friends.

Our hugs last longer and i swear i felt your tongue when we kissed goodnight.

Everyone except us knows we're together.

You go to Perth for the weekend. You meet someone.

We have the other talk. The one like we had last night.

The talk where you tell me that I'm your best friend but that if you're really honest with yourself then you have to admit I'm not only too old for you but also too fat and not pretty enough... and at the end of the day you can do much better.

Of course you don't want to hurt my feelings and it's not personal.

Baby... it is personal. I'm a person.

Do you really think you're my ideal partner?

You're not very bright, hugging you is like holding bones and to be completely honest you have the smallest penis i've ever come across... and i've come across quite a few... because i'm so old.

But I love you despite.

I love you more than anyone.

So, yes, i was hurt by our talk last night.

I'm hurt because we're here again.

And here's what will happen...

You'll become smitten with the new Perth guy.

You'll freak him out. He'll stop calling.

You'll 'decide' maybe you don't like this guy after all.

You'll come back to me and say you're confused about everything.

You'll say maybe you're not confused... and maybe we should be together.

I'll meet someone else.

You'll decide you're not confused and you definately want us to be together.

I'll say you're too late then stew on it for two weeks.

I'll come back to you.

You'll go to Perth for the weekend.

You'll come home and say that we need to talk.

I hate you.

I hate that i love you so much. I fucking hate it.

never take the jumbo cup

It started off so civilly, but that’s how most of our nights do. Maybe that’s the telltale sign we should have looked for. Everyone was sober, happy and grateful to be free of the working week.

 A quick drink at the pub found Miss H, Nighty, the boyfriend and I talking over the week that was and making plans for the two days ahead. A phone call from our Perth mate Trainerboy informed us he was in town and searching for us. A few minutes later he arrived, sweaty and hot. Sweaty from the run to the pub, hot from the fact he’s ridiculously good looking and sporting legs too good to be true.

We downed a few before I suggested we fulfil a dream I’ve had since arriving in Albany 4 years before… to go ten pin bowling.

 We hurried back to mine filled with anticipation of an evening where none of us would be smashed, no one would be injured and we’d all go and leave as one group. Oh how wrong I was. My first mistake was to invite the Couple. History has proven them to be trouble with a capital CM. These two like nothing better than to let loose, break furniture, swing each other wildly around the room and be sent home in disgrace… but how could they possibly carry out these actions at a bowling alley? How indeed?

 We stopped at the bottle shop on the way. Sure we bought a shit load of wine and spirits, but it was on sale and whatever we didn’t drink could be saved for another day. Yes I was kidding myself but I was possibly a bit too drunk to care… and we hadn’t arrived at the alley yet.

 The bowling alley was a picture of small town chic. darkened lanes, neon lit backdrops and a soundtrack ripped straight from my days of rollerdisco. I blame the alley for playing the grease megamix followed by divinyls. What else could we do but turn into 1987 bogans. On a side note I was wearing stretch black skinny jeans so I was in bowling night heaven.

 As we arrived we realised we had no glasses so the alley attendant supplied us with plastic cups. Not just any cups mind you but those milkshake sized mugs reserved for spiders and whatever is being consumed by alcoholics. Do you see where this story is going?

 We had the best night. Seriously one of the best nights I’ve had. We were loud and obnoxious, singing, dancing, occasionally bowling and constantly checking out the gaggle of eighteen year old hotties in the lane next door. Initially our rowdiness was diffused by the other patrons but as the night wore on the crowd dwindled and soon it was just us and a very bored looking attendant.

 By this time things were looking a bit… how you say… messy.

 No one was scoring, Trainer Boy and Bonnie were throwing themselves down the laneway, Miss H was table top dancing on the Scoreboard and multiple balls were being sent down single lanes. This was when the lights came on and the music stopped. Apparently it was time for us to leave.

 We removed our hire shoes and made our way to the front. On the way Trainer boy stopped to shoplift two cans of soft drink and a packet of chips. I hurried past him and pushed open the front door and walked outside…

 …just in time to see the couple swinging each other around, and to see her pirouette beautifully towards the balcony railings… except there was a gap in the rails and  Miss C slid straight through that gap and plunged over the edge head first. We raced down the two metre stairwell to see her still on the bitumen driveway. The show it seems was over. Actually that’s not true. The show had just begun.

 After a few minutes we got C to her feet. We ummed and arred about an ambulance but she insisted we go home. We hailed a taxi and got home as fast as the driver could. During the journey we managed to spill a bottle of wine over the cab floor. I dashed inside to grab a roll of paper towels and dabbed away at the maxi taxi floor. Meanwhile C was moved to the couch and everyone stood over her in concern.

 C needed to go to the hospital but she was being stubborn and now was calling for the only member of our social circle not actually with us. She refused to travel until Nighty was called so we jumped in the car and raced off to collect her. Miss H was driving, and a little intoxicated, but the emergency had sent our adreniline racing and no one had thought to question who was in a fit state to drive. No one except the police car that cruised behind us and flashed its lights, ending our journey two kilometres short of our destination.

 The police were extremely polite, even as they led Miss H to the back of their car. She had blown 0.07 and was now being escorted to the police station. I explained our predicament to the officers and asked if they could breathalyze me  to see if I was fit to take the wheel. Unfortunately they couldn’t oblige as a positive reading would mean I would have to be taken to the station as well. They told me the only option would be for me to drive and then be pulled over. Ok, that makes no sense to me either but I found myself behind the wheel and heading towards Nights place. At this point I should stress that I was under the limit and have no idea why I wasn’t driving in the first place. Night was waiting on the driveway for me tapping her foot impatiently.

 She jumped in the car and we sped(keeping well within the speed limit ofcourse) back to the house to pick up C.

 to be continued…

just the cheque please...

The only sound came from the television in the room next door.

Ok, there was also the sound of the argument in the room beyond that but we were pretending that noise wasn't happening. The two of us sat at the table, a table set for five, though it had become increasingly clear only two of us were eating.

Twenty minutes before the kitchen was a hub of laughter and joy. My mate was leaving town so i invited he and myself to Miss H's for a farewell dinner. I was cooking and drinking so as far as i knew everything was fine. But that was from the safety of the kitchen bench. If I had been standing at the table, either end, i would have seen the storm brewing. 

Miss H was online and facebooking, except she wasn't on her own facebook. The boyfriend had left his account open and Miss H was networking from his page when a message popped up. "How's the new girlfriend going?" 

As this point in the story i must state i do not condone Miss H reading or writing on someone else's account... but I do it all the time so who am I to judge. 

Miss H did what any new girlfriend would do and messaged the friend back telling her how amazing the new girl was... except she started the message with "OMG". The response was swift, "WTF is with OMG? Is someone else writing this is are you gay?" Miss H responded, like five or six times before the boyfriend realized. By this time she'd indicated to the friend that he was not gay, but spending a lot of time with some, very happy in his new relationship and glad to be rid of the old girlfriend. 

I'm still roasting carrots, soaking cranberries and drinking champagne, blissfully unaware that an argument had started. In my defense it was happening silently. The boyfriend had grabbed the computer back and Miss H was messaging him from her phone. the argument went back and forth whilst i cooked, drank and teased my mate about his hideous scarf. If i'd know I would have ripped the appliances from both their hands and not given them back until after dinner, and only if they'd eaten all their meal.

The boyfriend stood to leave the room. I announced that dinner would be ready in two minutes. Miss H's phone rang. She checked the message and left the room. Dinner was ready and the bedroom door was shut. We waited a good two minutes and then started dinner. My mate and I small talked over the sound of the television and that other noise. Soon we had finished our meal and a bottle of wine.

We looked at each other across the table. "Lets go."

We stood, left our empty plates and grabbed a bottle of red for the walk home.

The twenty minute walk took forty five minutes, apparently due to my inability to talk and walk at the same time. I blame the stopping at Hungry Jacks for dessert. That and my inability to talk and walk at the same time.

Miss H came to see me at work today. All is not well.

However she did show me how to open my own blog.

I promised she'd be my first story and in return she promised to go home and reheat her dinner from last night.