Monday, February 23, 2015

Write it off

The week's already a roaring success.

Spent the majority of the morning trying to conceal two green fairies on my face.

Needless to say, Ginger purchased me a Kinder Egg Surprise, in which resided a Tinkerbell stamp ring. I tested the capabilities of aforementioned ring on my right palm, shortly before falling asleep.
In the night, I have lovingly cradled my own face, and thus marked it with two very well defined sprites in luminescent green.

Only slightly less humiliating than Friday morning, which saw me projectile vomit down the side of a Tesco Express.

I've been trying really hard to get my shit together in 2015, but I'm afraid that the forecast for this year is looking much worse than for the last.

Is anyone out there who has mastered elegance, poise and integrity, willing to take me on as a protege?

I can do better. Really. And eventually, convenience shops everywhere will be safe from my binge drinking.

Anyone?

I don't have any money. I've spent it all on the wedding and alcohol (obvs), but I can pay you in the business cards of over-enthusiastic photographers.

Ginger and I stumbled out of the National Wedding Show yesterday, like babies from the trauma of the womb. So much glitter, so much pink, so many promises of everlasting memories. I guess that doesn't really paint an accurate picture of childbirth, but I'm not a writer anymore guys, I work in admin.

The point is, it was pretty disgusting. And I got a headache, and conned into a massage from a body builder. As I sat down for my presumed free rub, he said,

"The way it works, is that people pay what they think I deserve, which is usually £10-£20."

And I thought, well that's £10 of my Lambrini dosh down the pooper.

Then I watched Ginger's lovely, autumnal face level with mine, and an overjoyed girl place her hands on his shoulders. Well that's £20 of my Lambrini dosh down the pooper.

It's weird being enthusiastically jiggled in front of people eating their over-priced baguettes, mere metres away. Probably won't do that again.

On the plus side, after entering fifty competitions, we probably will win a honeymoon in Jamaica, and a crate of Baileys.

Totes worth it.





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