my stuff
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lucked out/locked out
This week has been a hum-dinger (good word) stinker of a week. I don’t mind though – after a frigging great weekend I have a renewed vigour in my work of both the officey and the homey variety.
I have recently become hideously addicted to solitaire on the compooter. As I type this there is a little icon down on the bar at the bottom with a ½ played game waiting for me. Oh fuckit, hold on – I’m going to play a few ‘hands’….
….and I’m back. I feel a bit stupid that it’s taken me this long to realise I had games on not only my computer at work but also at home. I suppose I used to spend all day at work looking out of the window so now that I am facing a wall I have nothing better to do than explore the treasures stored within my lap top.
So. Solitaire. I’ve just leapt into 1994 with that little gem. I’ll be ‘discovering’ Atari games next and wondering who shot JR.
Tra laa laaa.
Wednesday. Peak of the week. I took my gym bag into work today as it is day 2 of my 7 day free trial at this big fancy gym kind of close to me. I then pretended to the girl I was supposed to be going with that I’d left my trainers at home so I couldn’t go. Off to a glittering start there eh?
So, once again, I’m a lying scumbag. After I had mentally released myself from the evils of the gym and remembering it was Bandito’s basketball night so the flat would be mine and mine only, I decided I was going to really treat myself.
My Plans were:
1. Purchase bottle of wine and magazine on way home
2. Get into the house and quickly do what needed to be done in the dishes and hanging up the washing vein of things
3. Make pot of onion soup (okay…I’m realising that 2 isn’t a treat and 3 doesn’t sound so ‘treaty’. However (and yes Avid Reader, I'm talking to you here), I make the BEST SOUP IN THE WORLD AND IT IS A KNOWN FACT, so bare with me)
4. Make cheesy crouton things for the soup, yumyumyum.
5. Drink wine whilst eating soup
6. Have incredibly long and luxurious bath with rest of bottle of wine and perhaps some chocolate
7. Have very early night, feel fantastic and soft and silky.
Did this happen? Did it buggeryfuck.
After hastily drawing up these plans and many more, I left the office (leaving my phone and office keys in my desk drawer for some reason), wandered about a bit, discovered I had 70p in my purse and no bank card (thus no wine. Horror of horrors), went to phone Bandito to ask where the bank card was, discovered no phone, went back to the office, everybody had left and locked up, discovered no keys, wandered about a bit, got totally pissed on with the rain, wandered about a bit more, trying to think of a way to get wine other than begging in the street, went to get my gloves. No gloves. Realised that my gloves were in the other jacket I had on last night, thought about how stupid I am. Thought ‘oh, I wonder what else is in my other jacket pocket? My bank card? No. My wallet? No. My house keys? Yes’.
Arrrgh.
No phone, no card, no keys, no way to get Bandito, no long bath, no hope in hell of having a nice night in.
I rushed in one direction thinking ‘right, right, right. Where the fuck does Bandito play basketball? No idea, what’s the point in going this way then?’ so I rushed off in the other direction thinking ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I can’t stay out in the rain till 10pm. Where will I go? How will I get in touch with Bandito? I’ll use a phone box, what am I doing heading in this direction then?’ off I rushed in the other direction to the phone box.
Then I remembered Bandito’s sacred-rule-above-all-of-his-other-sacred-and-rather-stupid-if-you-ask-me-rules….
If you should ring Bandito’s mobile phone and your number does not register as a recognised number and it is even a smidgen out of office hours (i.e 5.01pm) there is no hope in hell that he will answer his phone.
No way. Not a hope in hell I said. No. Uh uh. Don’t even think about it. In fact, do think about it and then forgetaboutit. And then realise that you’d be faster sending a carrier pigeon than getting that boy to answer his frigging phone if he doesn’t recognise your number.
So. Toing and froing and getting wetter and wetter I was. And then, halleluhiah, my office manager wandered past. She looked quite frightened of me, being that I was drenched and kind of ranting to myself and walking hither and thither and so I can understand why she looked so taken aback when I ran up to her and roared ‘CANISENDATEXTMESSAGEFROMYOURPHONEANDDOESITHAVEPREDICTIVETEXT?’
Poor girl. She fumbled around in her bag, produced the phone (which did NOT have predictive text) and watched me stab repeatedly at the same number something along the lines of:
It’s HL locked out phone u on this number answer it or else
After lots and lots of faffing around, Bandito phoned me on the office managers phone and told me he’d be down to the flat in 10 minutes, but I was to be aware that he was ‘unimpressed’. Or similar words. I believe ‘for fuck sake’, ‘this is really annoying’, ‘what a waste of petrol’ were all used at one point or another.
Lovely office manager gave me a lift home, I waited on the steps, Bandito arrived. Gave me THE LOOK, marched into the house, threw off his clothes, threw on his basketball gear. A huge argument ensued, he left the house. I ate ½ a block of cheese, scalded my entire mouth on the hot tea I made and then spent the remainder of the evening muttering under my breath and thinking of really witty come backs to throw at Bandito in every eventuality from genuine sorrow at being so rude to me, to proclaiming he wants a divorce because I’m so forgetful and everything in between.
Aye. You just can’t plan perfect nights like this, can you?
10:38 pm - 22 February 2006
