Is cockblock one word or two? Anyone..? So, hola bitches! – I’m back and after a lengthly period (my whole life) of refusing to ‘get’ the Internet, I have given in to the inevitability of technology. I am officially online. Now what? I can finally get round to doing all the things people ‘do’ online that I couldn’t do at work – I hear that Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee video is quite good, and apparently there’s this thing you can do called ‘downloading music’ which is really great for the music industry because it allows artists to totally give their work away for free AND YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO USE A CD. If anyone wants to give me Internet lessons get in touch. Also, do you still have to capitalise the ‘I’ in ‘Internet’? Like with God? I still feel guilty if I spell it god.
Mega digression. So it was Friday night and after a long, hard week I met a few friends to attempt to dull the memory of it by crushing my brain cells with white wine. Two guys, an American and an Aussie sat opposite us and by my powers of deduction (eavesdropping), it quickly became apparent they were on a blind date. Somehow, we all ended up chatting and having a jolly old time, especially the bit where one of them would go to the toilet and then we’d all round on the other, whispering “sooo? What’ya THINK?” It was lovely, like being Davina McCall on Streetmate. I always though they should bring back Streetmate, only I’d well be Davina. Anyway, two gallons of booze later, the pair decided to go to a friend’s party in Shoreditch and though my friends went home, I decided to tag along as I’d devloped a bit of a schoolgirl crush on one of them by virtue of the fact that he was from West Virginia and thereby sounded like a cowboy “hi y’aaaaalll!”. He’s probably reading this, actually. Hi, Blantley! I mean, howdy! We went to the Electric Showrooms in Shoreditch, which by the way, has a light-up dance floor – what is this, 1994? – and had a good old drunken time dancing
Imagine my face here
though I think I may have upset the Aussie by robbing his man-friend because when I got home, I text him to say I had made it home and he text back ‘thank God’. Umm. The night HAD taken a turn for the peculiar as, when the cowboy and I had gone out for a cigarette, he offered to ‘make out’ with me. I considered it, thinking to myself ‘what a strange night! First I date-crash two decidedly gay men, and now one of them is offering to totally do me (well my mouth. Hm that sounds bad.) like kissing is something you just offer to do, rather like proffering someone a chewing gum. Do all Americans do this?’ Anyway, surprisingly I managed to control my urges and say “no, I’m fine thanks!” despite my brain going HE’S LIKE A COWBOY, A REAL GAY COWBOY! IT’S EFFING BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 2!” as it didn’t seem right to further cockblock Mr Australia. And for that, y’all I am quite proud of myself.
