So. The long weekend started off rather well.
I saw his naked pectorals.
I went to a farewell party, and he came along too. He offered all my mates drinks. This impressed me.
The party – held at a house – ended at 6:00am. I went back to Foxy Forearm's place for a bit of innocent groping and smash it in your facing, for an hour, then retired home – quite unbelievably blotto.
I don't know much about this guy. Past his upper abdomen, that is.
My mates think he's a peach. I'm thinking I need to get a grip. I don't want to freak out and run away.
I woke up with loser's complex – not because of this, heavens no.
But because I lost one of the diamond earrings that Ex S bought me one Christmas. It's probably floating around in Forearm's bed somewhere. I left them in my ears, because, well, they're priddy. And I lost one. Maybe it's a rite of passage, what with his whole engagement and all.
I suppose now was a good time than ever to lose it.
I went to Lusitoland with Big T, Moogs and E.
I saw lots of jean pant and skank stamps - the operative being tattoos of roses inked into women's boobies. Who are over fifty years old.
There was one tattoo stall that offered various types of skank stamps - including dancing dolphins - but one particular pearler caught my eye. A Chinese symbol that literally meant, 'I am sexy.' I asked if they could make me up a 'I are sexy' one, but they took this quite personally, and not in a pleasant way.
I didn't think my outfit through. Moogs lifted up my skirt in front of a whole bunch of Portuguese people, exposing my doondies, and because I had a wedgie, my bottom.
Luckily we were tanked on cane and Fanta Grape – or “Massey Ferguson's.” Because they were out of cream soda.
John Deere's are so Saturday Night At The Colony, anyway.