Saturday, 15 November 2014

Ya Hunky Funk

EDIT:  I scheduled this post yesterday morning. I didn't realise I would write another post that same day. I think most of this still makes sense. Sorry not sorry. 

So I was going to write this post yesterday but, having had experience in writing whilst very hungover (hello last year's French exam), I decided to wait until I was in a sunshinier mood. Which, to an extent I am. I say to an extent because I have been awake for approximately 18 minutes after having a very stressful dream about not being able to close the shop because customers kept coming in and I couldn't get them out. There were croissants involved and I had to deduce where a soft toy elephant came from despite telling the customer over and over that we were a charity shop and I had no fucking clue. I'm getting tense just thinking about it. Although it definitely wasn't as bad as the dream I had where I discovered that my diary was actually a 2006 diary. I woke up sweating.

ANYHOODLE, I was hungover yesterday. Because Flatmate Number 1 (hereafter named FN1 because I am an original fuck) and I went out for girly drinks. Which we'd never done before so it was rather lovely. It's so nice not to get all super dressed up to go out because you're aiming to go out on the pull - also one of da clubs here doesn't let you in if you're wearing jeans. Bitch please, this is Aberdeen, you're not going to get any Chelsea types here.

Can you tell I'm in an odd mood? I'm in an odd mood.

I was round at Troy's house last night for pizza and Lord of the Rings part 2 and I'm scared he's not gotten over me. There were too many long, lingering glances when I was trying to get him to change the disc or pass me the pizza box. I definitely do not think I was encouraging it - I have been one to be a dick and encourage a boy's feelings for me* and this was most definitely not one of those times.

*Sidebar: I was/am a manipulative bumhole.

Anyway, Troy aside, FN1 and I were at the bar in the castle (it's so cool, all gothic-y and shit. We were there for Halloween and it was fabby) and had just walked out of the toilets (concealed behind a fake bookcase) when we noticed a hunky looking blonde looking our way. I have never used the word 'hunky' until FN1 and I were in our English tutorial writing notes to each other like mature students. There's a rugby player in our class called Adam and he is bloody gorgeous. One of FN1's notes to me was something along the lines of 'yaaass roll up those sleeves ya hunky fuck' which made me snort laugh so uncontrollably, I got a major death stare (*salutes* Major Death Stare) from the professor.

We find it even funnier now since I was saying how much of a hunky fuck he was when we were back home and, as per usual, fucked it up so ended up saying 'hunky funk'. It's funny. Come on. Funny. Hunky funk. Instead of fuck. Funny. I'm funny,

Right so Blonde Hunk at the bar. We went to get drinks and - prepare yourselves for this - I winked at him across the bar. WINKED!! I have never done such a thing in my life!! My preferred method to getting guys when I'm out is to get horrifically drunk, wear a short dress and throw myself at them before they even have time to say 'I'm gay'.

No comment.

Yes, so Blonde Hunk. After being a brazen wench, FN1 and I went to sit down. And we lost him. So after I took some hilarious snapchats on her phone whilst she went to pee (thinking back on it, the one of my boobs with '#topflatmate' written above was not my best idea) we went to the vodka bar down the road. As we sat there unashamedly not drinking vodka, he walked past us and sat down at one of the booths. Naturally we decided to move from the bar with our many drinks and sit down next to them.

Oh! Oh! I forgot to say, he saw us leaving the castle bar when he was outside smoking (bleeuurrgh) and asked us where we were going. I told him that we were going to Revolution cos one of the bartenders fancied Sophie (dropping the FN1 now, it was too robotic. Also she knows I write this, I'm sure she'll give zero fucks if I use her actual name. It just sounds less fun and MI5. Oh well). And he turned and said, 'who fancies you then' and I was all, 'I don't know, you'll have to tell me' and flounced off and it was awesome. Even if I do say so myself. Thank you, myself.

So, back to the vodka bar. We were sitting next to them and I had my back turned and was chatting to Sophie. Then he took my hand. And, there's no easy way to say this but we were, as Soph said: hand fucking. NOT WHAT YOU THINK YOU DIRTY MINDED SODS. More like playing with each other's hands. You know? And I was being super cool by still not looking at him and having a nonchalant but actually very frantic conversation with Soph about whether or not I wanted to sleep with him. I mean, I didn't. For one thing, he smoked (bleeeeeeuuuurrggghhhhh) and also I just kinda wasn't feeling it. But I would have done. I was considering it. Not only was he hunky hot but I felt it would show LB that I could get another guy and I wasn't hung up on him. LB wasn't there, by the way. This was all in my head.

Anyway, Soph convinced me that was a dumb fucking idea and we should leave. So I agreed and got up to put my coat on. She said she was going to tell him what a dick he was and I was like, fine but let me do something first. So, being the awesome fuck I am, I leant over and kissed him. Then walked off as Sophie berated him for being an arse and told him I'd only kissed him because I was vulnerable. She's the bestest.

Then we drank some more and I do not remember the rest of the night. As per usual.

I am also rather annoyed I didn't sleep with him because, from what I can recall, he was quite the hunk.

So I have successfully made a very insignificant event into a full blog post. Well done me, Thank you, me. I think I just wanted to show that I could have. I could have slept with him and therefore shown that I'm not hung up on LB and his stupid frustratingness. He's so bloody annoying and arrogant and full of himself and gives zero fucks about me.

Hey ho. I'm going to shower and listen to Joni Mitchell as I clean the flat. Sometimes I shock myself how like my mother I am becoming. But Joni Mitchell always calms you down. It's proven fact. She also makes you reconsider your entire life so I would prepare yourselves.

Was this the longest and most boring post ever? Probably. Not even sorry. My blog, my rules.

Unrelated and unnecessary Harry Potter in my posts is my new favourite thing. Even better than pugs.


  1. I'm a happily married man who is too old to be out in Vodka Bars on a Friday night...but, you are killing me ma'am.

    When you winked...I thought, ehhh...but, "You'll have to tell me"? That was just stone cold.

    This blog is hilarious.

    1. Good sir, I take my hat off to you. You indeed have an excellent taste in humour and all round fabulousness.

      Fo realz tho, comments like these make my day. Which has been rather shitty thank you for asking. I had to work and decided, as I do every time I work, that I detest people. Especially children. The general public is the worst.

    2. Glad to be of some cheer.

      I've been on my ass with the crud for the last two days. I haven't had the energy to do anything but watch the I.D. channel (one campy reenactment of a murder case after the other...with titles like Wicked Desire and Behind Mansion is as awesome as it sounds) and troll blogs.

      Yours is the only one I found.

      You aren't gonna start posting vegan recipes or scrap booking tips are you?