my stuff
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tough tits indeed
Last night was a ‘low key’ surprise birthday drinky thing for my friend Rachel. She’d been out for a meal with her boyfriend and another couple and spent the whole night being really miserable thinking that all of her friends had clean forgotten her birthday.
She even tried to go home and avoid the awfulness of a quick nightcap at the pub, knowing that nobody really gave a shit about her and her special day.
That’s the problem with surprise things like that. They only work properly if you drag the surprisee so low down before hand that they never know if they’re delighted because of the gabble of stupid mates wearing hats and blowing hooters or if it’s the general relief that they’re not so easily forgotten after all.
She was completely overwhelmed by the whole thing, being one of my quiet, timid friends, and cried at quite a few of her presents. I bought her champagne and chocolates. Completely unoriginal but the shop I was going to buy a nice thing from was closed all day yesterday and so it was either the champers and choccies or a couple of dirty mags from the shop across the road.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I don’t suppose because as we were leaving she was so pissed, she grabbed me in for a big cuddle exclaiming ‘thank you so much for my lovely necklace’.
Ah well. You win some you lose some.
And, before you ask, I had 2 glasses of blackcurrant and soda.
We left at 10.15pm which has to be the single earliest time I have ever left a pub in my life (unless you count after midnight as being early, which I don’t, seeing as technically it’s still the same day as when you got up. Providing, of course, that you haven’t fallen asleep in the pub before hand), and off to bed we toddled feeling all smug that our friends were waking up to stonking hangovers in the morning.
And today I’ve arranged (via email) to meet up with an old, old, old friend for lunch. I’ve not seen her for 8 years. I vaguely know what she’s been up to, but we only really write cards at birthdays and Christmas and this year I stuck a note in saying ‘why do we keep doing this? Should we meet up do you think? If so – here’s my email address…..heelandlass@she’snevereverevereverever_goingtoget-intouch.withme.uk
But she did. And she seems quite keen.
And now I have to lose 8 million pounds in weight and become utterly fabulous between now and March…or I suppose she can just take me as she finds me and if it’s not good enough, then tough tits.
Yeah, that sounds like a much better option.
Smooches.
5:15 pm - 01 February 2006
