“Anything you can do, I can do drunker!”
Fitting motto for tonight, it seems. It certainly makes me
appreciate how much of a tank my dear nana was – this is strong shit. And I’m
enjoying it a little bit too much…
Anyway, unfortunately I wasn’t able to complete a couple of
the points on my list today. BUT – before you judge me – I have a fitting
excuse (for the first time in my life). Hear it goes:
I needed to go to the bank, to put some money into my
account for the Chili’s tickets tomorrow. After walking into town (because I can’t
drive, that’s right, rub it in), and requesting to put the cash into my
account, I realised I’d forgotten my credit card. Fortunately, after a few
questions and a bit of banter with the woman behind the plexi glass, I got the
money in fine. Her son was trying to get tickets to the same concert, so she
could understand. I then strut to the shop to buy onions, dry ginger ale, and
whisky.
I was feeling pretty good about myself, to be honest. I was
wearing this low cut vest and a pair of tight beige trousers, and because it
was sunny I had my hair loose and my wayfarers on. I got a couple of
wolf-whistles from a few idealistic middle-aged builders while I was walking. One
looked old enough to be my dad, but
never mind. A compliment’s a compliment, isn’t it?
So in the shop I got my things and stood in the queue. I was
behind two old women who took an eternity
to pick all the pennies out of their purses so I was just about ready to shoot
myself by the time I reached the checkout. Old people in everyday situations
are complete cripples – I can’t stand it. Especially on public transport, but
that rant is for another day. Anyway, the girl serving me beeped my onions and
ginger ale, and then asked for ID.
… Fuck.
The customers in the queue behind me from the double penny
fiasco were probably feeling impatient enough, but for ten minutes I tried to
barter my way out of not having my provisional (har, har) licence with me. I
had my old student card, but apparently that didn’t count – despite how many
times I tried to say it was okay because it had my picture on it.
Eventually I had to ask the poor girl to put the whisky
under the counter for me and I’d be back later with my ID. Did the walk of
shame all the way home and back again.
By the time I got back, the girl’s shift must have ended,
because behind the counter was the tallest man I’ve ever seen in my life. He
was about 7 feet tall – I’m not kidding. He looked like a Viking. He had really
long blonde hair in a ponytail and a beard. It was quite nerve-wracking
approaching him because it felt like I was doing some sort of dodgy deal by
leaning and saying “Hello, there should be a bottle of whisky under the counter
for me…” but it was okay. I was really sweaty, too. It was a hot day. That was
annoying.
SO… by the time I arrived home, I’d used up all the time I’d
allocated to do the other crap I had planned. (It was a shame, because I really
wanted to do some cooking.) There’s my excuse!
In other news, I’ve put ads on my blog because I’m poor. It’s
just an experiment to see if I can actually make some money (I doubt it, but it’s
worth a try), so they could just be temporary things. I quite like them,
though. As long as they continue featuring inviting pictures of curries and don’t
end up advertising “sexy singles in YOUR area!” they can stay. The orange sauce kind
of matches my profile.
I may/may not update this tomorrow because I spend weekends
at my boyfriend’s house. I’m sure I’ll be able to on Sunday. Until then, see
you!
Love from Cat x
(Thought I’d be cool to end this one like a letter. It wasn’t
cool at all, was it?)
No comments:
Post a Comment