The meat in my sandwich

This morning on the bus I overheard the following
“I forgot I had a boyfriend when AJ asked me out. I said yes, and then he noticed I had a hickey on my neck, so he asked me if I had a boyfriend and then I remembered that I did. Sorry Steve!”

While I’ve had a handful of sex-related injuries, I’ve never had a hickey. Am I missing out?

So, this weekend. Friday was obviously the Straitjacket Fits, and while I’m no longer drunk (partly on NINE DOLLAR BEER. Duval – who knew? Not me, until I counted my change forlornly), that doesn’t mean I can be any more coherant about it. SO FUCKING AMAZING. Oh yeah! Then on Saturday I hmmm. What did I do? Something with Karen. What was it? Lunch perhaps? Oh I know, I went and checked out a flat and then we ate fries at Malo (so good!) and she came over to watch American Psycho and then I returned some videos. No I didn’t, I went supermarket shopping instead and bought half a baker’s dozen bottles of wine. While I’m sure that everyone coming to my Swanky Dinner Party on Saturday is far too well brought up to ever consider turning up to a dinner party empty handed (although I would like to ask you to bring a cheese, or if you hate cheese some grapes or some crackers so that we can have a cheese board too), it never hurts to have spare supplies so that I don’t drink my way through my parents’ supply. I have already moved the Aria to a place where I can’t see it.

Speaking of Swanky Dinner Parties (because I’m nothing if I’m not planning an event), I think that I have the gender balance almost balanced out(*), because while JJ pulled out in favour of going to Macdonald’s, Anji pulled out in favour of a sad goodbye. Of course, Mr Noizy is still to RSVP, and I don’t know about Brad, or if Anne even received her invitation, so it’s still all very up in the air. But I do have the menu planned out, so woe betide you if you have failed to notify me about any allergies or food you simply can’t stand to eat (for me it’s eggs in egg form). If worst comes to the worst, I can sit by myself and eat pity party patties and drink the good wine. I am a nervous entertainer, which is kind of lame on my behalf.

Speaking of pattys, today I was described as being “the meat in the sandwich”. It wasn’t as erotic as you might think it could be. But that’s okay, because I am going to go home and Brad is going to come over and we’re going to watch The OC for like, ever.

Okay, and in order to stimulate conversation, I’d like you to confess something to me. I’ll start things off by admitting that amongst the tracks from the server at work that are marked by four or more stars due to the amount of times that they are played is Evanescence. Please don’t hate me, because I am beautiful. Haha, I love commas.

OH! And in free stuff news:, I have a spare ticket (cos I got 4, thanks lady!) to In Good Company on Wednesday at 6.30pm at Reading. Anyone want it? It’s got Topher in it. Mmmm topher. And Scarlett. Mmmm boobies.

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