Sunday, September 17, 2006

G-A-Y

Can't work em out, can't walk away
try desperately to think of the politest way to say
just get out ma face, just leave me alone
and no you can't have ma number, cos I lost ma phone...

-Miss Lilly Allen

No. 1
'Hi, are you single?'
'Yeah'
'And are you looking?'
'Umm, I am, but I'm straight'

I like to think of this rejector as a closeted gay man who doesn't quite realise just yet how gay he is and how much he actually wants me, that's all.

No. 2
'Hi are you single?'
'Kinda'
'What does that mean?'
'It means I am now, but I won't be once I get home'
'Can I give you my number?'
'Sure'

I like to think of this as an exciting possibility. The Home Wrecker in me came out in full force. And I didn't regret it even once. What exactly did he mean by 'I am now'? I suppose he wanted me to unzip and lay myself down in the middle of the dancefloor before I reached up and tugged at his fly. But I would never do such a thing, not in the middle of a dancefloor anyways.

No. 3
'Hello, can I just ask, are you single?'
'Yeah'
'Looking?'
'III'mm open to everything' (spoken with utter gay pride and conviction)
'I see, well let me give you my number. And where are you from?'
'Canada'.

So there we have it dear readers. I slagged my number out not once but twice.
And no responses yet. I think their phones must have stopped working. Argh the unreliability of telephone networks in ths day and age!

So, last night we drunk and boogied and drunk some more and boogied and then we all huddled together in a semi orgy as Lilly Allen came onto the stage and performed five songs. She came on holding a can of beer in her hand and a fag (the tobacco stick ofcourse). And as she sang her songs she puffed away mid verse. And she was dressed like a christmas fairy-gone wrong. Difficult to describe, easy to chuckle at. All in all she was fantastic. Lively, unapologetic, tacky princess, pretty, with a nice voice, very nice. She could have people dancing to the story of a trip to the toilet if she wanted. And it would be great. I think she defines just what melody is all about. Quirky, witty and boogieish.

The exact moment I came to realise just what a great night last night was, however, when, at 5 am I sat on the curb opposite G-A-Y, eating a slice of pizza and salty chips and watched as The Dame rather innocently accused a 65 year old homeless women of being a crack whore.

'I'm going to see if I can buy her some food, atleast that way I know the money is going to good use' came The Dame's initial declaration.
And as I contemplated what she had said, she walked over and perched herself over the homeless lady.
'Do you want me to buy you some food?'
'No, but 50 p would be helpful so that I can have a coffee when I feel like one'
'Are you sure you won't spend the 50p on drugs?'

And then it started. The shouting and pointing as the homeless lady declared that The Dame should be killed. Ha Ha. Ha Ha. Doesn't the Dame realise the price of a syringe? 50p might get you a permanent marker (must make mental note to ask Arthur for further advice on this matter).

And then we sat on the bus which seemed to take forever getting us anywhere near my boudoir. And then we slept. For five hours.

To be perfectly honest with you dear readers, I feel gayed out. As though somebody has put it up my bottom and it's come out of my mouth. I think it's time for a woman, for a bit of ying and yang. For something unusual and interesting. So the gay chapter is closed for now. And we can resume once my crack has healed (emotionally speaking ofcourse)

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