Can May be the most birthday saturated-month of the year. I seem to have a lot of Taurean friends, and Friday was Doc's birthday bash; Saturday was C's.
Anyway two little ripper snorters – Dockers did his usual thing at about 3:00am, stripping off for the throngs and dancing about. He's the most chilled out exhibitionist I know. We all got a bit fucked, oodles of fun – with the high point of my night meeting two Germans.
They hailed from Munchen. I threw out a few “I vont you to show me your uber taschenpuffer” and “Ich bin ein frau mit boson”, and they seemed touched that I knew how to verbalise the word “hipflask” and that “I am a woman and I have boobs.” As well as loads of shit about autobahns and beer in Bavaria. Moral – if there are Germans in a room, I'll find 'em.
Also, they seemed quite taken aback by the amounts of “fucks” that seemed to spew from our collective female mouths. Apparently, in German, “scheise” will do. Fuck literally means to fuck. So saying “fich dich” is absolutely not on unless you're the extra in a porn movie. C asked whether saying “scheisenhausen” (“Oh shithouses!”) was acceptable, and they still stood strong on just “scheise.”
I suppose in France people say “bordel” a lot (“Oh brothel!”), so it's all one in the same. Fuck is a strong word. But yet nothing quite rounds up a moment as the word fuck, let's be honest.
Crazy party, full of vodka and Tab, and then onto C's on Saturday. That was also quite hilarious and silly – and I had my first Jaegermeister in months.
I also saw Ant this weekend. Who took it upon herself to be my personal stylist before one of these parties. I thought I was looking hot, and she couldn't understand why I'd want to wear “that gold thing.” Basta!
Woke up Sunday with a hideous cold. I've been wondering when I'll get sick really. When your body is taking a beating, and it's all hammer and tongs with stress and new jobs and moving and all that, one is inclined to get sick. Well here I am, all bunged up, husky and snotty and couldn't sleep at all last night.
And wrapped up under a fever watching TV on Sunday, I came to two conclusions:
1)The Mr Muscle Man. The animated dude in the very family friendly advert. You know, there's the mother, the son drops cake on the floor, and in he flies? Dude – Mr Muscle has a package. He's animated for crying out loud, but Mr Muscle has the largest of packages. Unbelievable. They not only made him a cleaning product, they made him a cleaning product with a huge penis.
2)Top Gun is one of the best movies of all time. Tom Cruise wasn't only not crackers, he also grinded his jaw throughout the movie in such a way, good Christ, I really wanted to be Kelly McGillis. Maverick was gorgeous.