Spinsterella

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Spinny makes a complete tit out of herself. Again.


Out of all the lads I fancied when I was fifteen, there’s only one who I’d still, um, consider. He’s not conventionally good-looking at all - the tired old phrase "there’s just something about him" usually gets wheeled out when describing him. He’s got a bit of a swagger. Bloody everybody back home knows him too, apart from me. I must confess though, that I've long nurtured a fantasy that if we ever met, we'd really hit it off. I know he's travelled a fair bit, and is apparently very confident and funny. Perfect. And of course, I'd dazzle him with my independence and wit and life experiences.

Last Summer, we finally met. It didn't quite go according to plan...

My girl friends back home are dead boring. We had arranged to go out for a quiet drink on the Saturday evening. But as it turned out, another old classmate of ours, Eamonn was in town. Myself and Eamonn met up in a local village which was having a festival and went to the pub at midday. We invited the rest of the girls, but they refused (even though they all live nearby for fuck’s sake). I had a fantastic day, chatted to loads of folk I hadn’t seen since school, and drank a shedload of pints. No lunch or anything sensible like that either. So by the time it came to meet up with the girls that evening, I was lamped.

I arrived at Orla’s house, went "yeah, yeah, engagement ring" to her and the girls, and marched straight outside to where Orla’s boyfriend and his friends, including Fit Bloke were. I sat myself down and spent the next hour talking absolute bollocks to the boys. Because I assumed I’d be getting showered and changed between seeing Eamonn and the girls, I had my skanky, unwashed hair tied up in a ponytail, and, shockingly, no made-up on. The horror. Plus, it had been a hot and humid day so I was really sweaty. Lovely.

Funnily enough, at Orla’s wedding recently, Fit Bloke, who was looking especially foxy, completely failed to make a beeline for me. (Possibly because I was hiding in the corner all night.)

11 Comments:

  • Maybe he's short sighted? That would be a bonus, as it would why he didn't make a beeline for you, plus it would mean he also didn't noticed fact that you were in need of a 'polish'. If not, arse to it, he's clearly not worth bother.
    Who wants a bloke/shag who doesn't appreciate a lass who likes a laugh anyway? ;-)

    By Blogger The Lady Muck, at 3:32 PM  

  • Speaking of tits, Spin - many and belated thanks for whupping yours out on my site recently. Not only has my traffic increased 14-fold, but I haven't had such a good laugh since a mafioso acquaintance gave a graphic demonstration of the etymology of the word winklepicker with three eunuchs and a bowl of lychees. Can't wait to see the rest of you!!


    Love on ya,


    Bob

    By Blogger Robert A. Swipe, at 4:47 PM  

  • Mucky, there's a line you cross when drinking where you go from 'liking a laugh' to 'really fucking obnoxious'. I'd crossed that line about five hours earlier.

    Bob - shhh, I don't get 'em out for just anybody, y'know...

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 5:08 PM  

  • Full marks for use of the word "lamped" to describe your condition!

    By Blogger Billy, at 8:58 PM  

  • You know he's really dull really.

    Your lamped mankiness was a subliminal rejection of his petit bourgeois tediousness cunningly provided by your sub concious.

    Hope that helped.

    By Blogger garfer, at 9:45 PM  

  • garfer. yeah. what he said.

    By Blogger First Nations, at 11:43 PM  

  • completely OT, Spin, but in your opinion, which out of the Western Daily Press and the Evening Post has a posher readership in Bristol?

    By Blogger GreatSheElephant, at 11:03 AM  

  • Has the Hiding In The Corner Tactic ever actually worked for anyone?

    By Blogger Fuckkit, at 11:21 AM  

  • Perhaps he didn't recognise you? Unless you were sporting the 'skanky, unwashed-ponytail-plus-no-make-up' look at the wedding??

    Agree with the lady muck about the lass who likes a laugh (or is that just not true? - am starting to doubt this myself lately)

    By Blogger Tabby Rabbit, at 7:06 PM  

  • The thing is with fit bloke, my home town (sorry, city these days) isn't exactly massive, and he has known EXACTLY who I am since I was 18. At least.

    Plus, he quite probably knows some stuff about me that I haven't even divulged here. Yet. Just as well really. Like I'd ever fuck anyone from Northern Ireland!

    GSE - Evening Post has a much bigger readership. Don't know about posher though - like all regional rags, it's not exactly written for the ABC1s. I have no clue who reads the Western Daily Press - it's a completely bonkers paper. The staff at both papers are being amalgamated at the minute and there have been loads of redundancies and everybody's understandably pissed off about it.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 7:15 PM  

  • ta muchly

    By Blogger GreatSheElephant, at 7:48 PM  

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