what? WHAT?

Went to a very cool gallery exhibition last night.
Where they served cocktails and had an exposé of couches that were finished off in patent leather and cost a small fortune, but were aesthetically nice to look at anyway.

Had a Brit girl with us, and of course, I enquired about whether she’d ever seen Richard Hammond in real life. As you do.

Brit: Yeah. He’s fucking tiny man.

Peas: Yeah yeah yeah don’t care.

Brit: You really really like him, like you really think he’s amazing?

Peas: He’s the most beautiful British man that ever was.

Brit: Oh come on.

Peas: What is wrong with you people? It’s as clear as fucking day, the stance, the hair, the teeth, the face, why doesn’t anyone see this?

Brit: He was on a poll for “Britain’s Weirdest Crushes”. Up there with people who think Gordon Ramsey is hot.

Peas: Dude. Dude. Do you think Colin Farrell is hot?

Brit: Yes.

Peas: Do you think Brad Pitt is hot?

Brit: Yes.

Peas: So then, with such impeccable taste, how can you not see what I see? How can you not see Richard Hammond in the same light? God, the frustration.

Brit: He’s all yours. No competition whatsoever from me.

Peas: You’re all blind. All completely and utterly blind. I'm so horny for that man, and it's getting more feverish as the days pass.

Bought two hats yesterday. Couldn’t wait for the weekend. A red beret and a black fancy thing.

My colleague said, as I burst into the office sporting the beret, slightly cocked, on the side of my head, like I was about to storm the Bastille and then afterwards, light a Gauloise and eat an artichoke, that I looked like a domestic worker who frequented the Church of Zion.

“It’s French. Beret is French.”

‘In this country,’ he said, openly ridiculing my hat, ‘your hat doesn’t look French.’
“Well you wear Caterpillars.”
‘So?’
“So. Why are we having this conversation even?”

Ant said my black hat, that I wore to the gallery, looked odd on my head.

Fuck it. You just can’t win. You just can’t fucken win.

God it’s hard being eccentric sometimes.

Well. I’m wearing the fucking domestic worker beret to the Hillary event today, and I’m gonna blow those democrats out of the water.

Not to mention in my meetings beforehand. One person - just one person - must look at my hat funny, and I will turn into a mime for the rest of the time we collaborate around that table.

Hat Tolerance is not a lot to ask.

In other news, 3RM needs public recognition for admitting that Air Supply does what it’s meant to do:

To: peasontoast@gmail.com
From: 3rm@iliveinsecunda.com
Subject: tear jerker

Listening to some random playlist while surfing the web working and have just been assaulted by Air Supply’s Making Love Out Of Nothing At All. There were a few seconds there where I thought I might burst into tears at my desk.

Thank you. Finally, someone gets it.