Monday, December 10, 2007

Ball of Confusion

Frankly I'm a little confused.

Had a grand old weekend, although if I'm honest, was probably a bit too drunk and loud. And annoying. In fact I'm lucky my friends put up with me.

Regardless, we had gathered at a friend's house in the flat east of this grand country of ours. A pre Christmas Christmas party, if you will. I asked the girl if she wanted to come. I did this a while ago, while feeling pleased with myself, or optimistic, or high, or something. I didn't think she'd say yes.

But she did, and so I had contrived to spend 24 hours in her company. I'm not sure I distinguished myself, unless she really likes rude songs sung overly loudly. I was also reminded , if I needed reminding, that I am not a young man anymore. Mostly this reminder came in the form of trying too hard to compete in drinking games. Put in my place by a Mary's Man. The shame of it. Time to hang my drinking hat up next to my dancing shoes.

So I had had plans of an attempted wooing. These seem scuppered when I had remarked how we were an anti-cliche, in that we have dinner, she asks me in for coffee, and then... we drink coffee. Of course, says she. I'd be horrified if you tried to jump me.

Horrified.

Let that one roll around in your mouth for a while, if you will.

Horrified.

No, I can't put a positive spin on it either.

Fair enough, I guess that's cleared that up, anyway. Best behaviour, then.

It seemed to work well enough, although my friends were keen to establish us as a couple. I think it's the novelty factor for them. Drunkeness ensued, in case you hadn't gathered, and I sustained a small, but annoyingly painful head injury. Tried, and failed to stay up for the Hatton fight.

But the morning... the morning brought not only the mother of all hangovers, but an interesting sleeping arrangement. Not planned, I insist. Not since I heard the word horrified, anyway. And while all that went on was sleeping, it was, shall we say, very companionable. Was this my time; a test?

Horrified, you'll remember. Well, I didn't see evidence of horror, but I'm still as confused as a fella can be.

Can men and women be just friends? Even if they're very good friends?

I'm no clearer knowing, frankly.

Last business:
Historical note. I've just watched the Alamo. I'm sure the thing is riven with historical inaccuracies, but one in particular has got my goat. General Houston makes reference to Wellington choosing the battleground at Waterloo. He didn't. While he generally preferred to fight on his terms, on this occasion, Napoleon stole a march on him, humbugged him, if you will, and he had to fight there to stop Napoleon splitting the Allied armies. So there.

Music Nazi recommends What We Did On Our Holidays, by Fairport Convention. Do it. You know you need more folk in your life.

7 comments:

Baby Blue Pyjamas said...

"Humbugged By God"

The great defensive general was almost humbugged by the prussians deliberately getting lost if i recall my nepolionic history.

i should write somthing of substance, but im in CDU with a lady with a rip rawing UTI, who is talking to mice.

Medblog Addict said...

You made me laugh at loud with this post.

Horrified!!! hehehe

Chrysalis Angel said...
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Chrysalis Angel said...
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DrShroom said...

BBP - The prussians were indeed reluctant to come to the fore, and did delay their arrival; BUT their presence did tie up thousands of Napoleon's men moving back and forth, looking for them.
CA - The girl has known me for an age, and has seen me worse for wear before. And I had no plans, no plans to get shitfaced and paw at her. Rubbish I may be, but I'm not a complete beast.
And, CA you're welcome

But I'm very excited to hear about talking mice

Lala said...

Well, after after a few experiences, I've decided men and women cannot ever be close friends. I really hope I'm wrong.

Duane said...

It will not work in fact, that is exactly what I think.
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