If It Weren’t For the Photographs I Would Deny It Forever.
I am making my way from my office to my bus stop. A female colleague rushes up to me. She has not uttered a word to me in three years. Something I have not lost sleep over.
Female Colleague: Tired! I just wanted to say you were brilliant on Friday night! Really convincing.
Me: You what?
Roughly forty-eight hours earlier.
I am standing in a beer cellar with Uncannily Similar, taking alternate large swigs from a pint of lager and very large vodka and tonic. He is gazing forlornly around us.
Uncannily Similar: This is a nightmare isn’t it?
Me: Mmm.
U.S: I mean. Surrounded by all this drink. And we can’t have any of it.
Me: [Adjusting my skirt] Not really what I thought you meant.
U.S: Oh. This? Yeah. Do you think I need some more lippy?
Me: I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Be a man. How has this happened by the way?
Two years ago I had resolved to start doing things that were a little out of character as my default behavior hadn’t really worked out as well as it could have. These ‘things’ usually involved daredevil antics such as sitting on a different seat on the bus to work or eating feta cheese. But this is just silly.
U.S: [Glancing at my legs] You’d have looked better in the fishnets.
Me: [Irrationally insulted] You fucking what?
U.S: Well. The black-and-purple stripes aren’t doing you any favours. You look like Beetlejuice.
Me: Fuck off do I.
The door to the cellar opens a crack. We are due to emerge from this and then from behind the bar and behind the audience who will be expecting us to emerge from the stage in front of them. In terms of 'stealth' it would probably be the strangest Splinter Cell add-on pack ever downloaded.
Our Boss: Five minutes girls. You look fabulous.
She vanishes again.
Me: Anyway. Your tits are wonky.
U.S: Don’t tell me that now!
Hearing our ‘theme’ we dash onstage and make complete buffoons of ourselves in front of several hundred of our peers.
Fourty-eight hours later.
Me: What do you mean, convincing?
FC: Oh. Emm. Nothing. Just you were really good.
Me: Fucks sake.
FC: Really. It was just a funny panto. Loved your dance at the end. Did it take long to rehearse?
Me: I have to catch a bus.
Six hours earlier. I walk down a corridor past two gentlemen I do not recognize. Assuming they are past my earshot one of them turns to the other and says:
“You should have seen him on Friday night. FUCKING TERRIFYING.”
Female Colleague: Tired! I just wanted to say you were brilliant on Friday night! Really convincing.
Me: You what?
Roughly forty-eight hours earlier.
I am standing in a beer cellar with Uncannily Similar, taking alternate large swigs from a pint of lager and very large vodka and tonic. He is gazing forlornly around us.
Uncannily Similar: This is a nightmare isn’t it?
Me: Mmm.
U.S: I mean. Surrounded by all this drink. And we can’t have any of it.
Me: [Adjusting my skirt] Not really what I thought you meant.
U.S: Oh. This? Yeah. Do you think I need some more lippy?
Me: I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Be a man. How has this happened by the way?
Two years ago I had resolved to start doing things that were a little out of character as my default behavior hadn’t really worked out as well as it could have. These ‘things’ usually involved daredevil antics such as sitting on a different seat on the bus to work or eating feta cheese. But this is just silly.
U.S: [Glancing at my legs] You’d have looked better in the fishnets.
Me: [Irrationally insulted] You fucking what?
U.S: Well. The black-and-purple stripes aren’t doing you any favours. You look like Beetlejuice.
Me: Fuck off do I.
The door to the cellar opens a crack. We are due to emerge from this and then from behind the bar and behind the audience who will be expecting us to emerge from the stage in front of them. In terms of 'stealth' it would probably be the strangest Splinter Cell add-on pack ever downloaded.
Our Boss: Five minutes girls. You look fabulous.
She vanishes again.
Me: Anyway. Your tits are wonky.
U.S: Don’t tell me that now!
Hearing our ‘theme’ we dash onstage and make complete buffoons of ourselves in front of several hundred of our peers.
Fourty-eight hours later.
Me: What do you mean, convincing?
FC: Oh. Emm. Nothing. Just you were really good.
Me: Fucks sake.
FC: Really. It was just a funny panto. Loved your dance at the end. Did it take long to rehearse?
Me: I have to catch a bus.
Six hours earlier. I walk down a corridor past two gentlemen I do not recognize. Assuming they are past my earshot one of them turns to the other and says:
“You should have seen him on Friday night. FUCKING TERRIFYING.”
posted by Tired Dad at
8:16 pm
7 Comments:
You live an interesting life. I'm hoping this is an example of one of those English vs American cultural differences; otherwise, I'd be compelled to add, a VERY interesting life.
Being called Fucking terrifying is a good thing! Charity thing, or 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'?
Feta cheese????
*Swoons at the thought*
Fucking terrifying - what a compliment.
Janeway: Pantomime. A MASSIVE cultural difference. And not a good one.
BENJ: A 'work' thing that I drunkedly agreed to.
Ellie: Honestly. Try it. Don't let the association with word 'fetid' put you off.
Z: I liked it better than 'very convincing'.
What no pics? Disgraceful behaviour...;-)
There are pics. They will NEVER see the light of day.
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