I met SiC for a beer last night in the Powers Bar. Tuesday in the Powers is Blues Night, also known as Dirty Old Man Night – if you’re female, under fifty and have all your teeth, you’re guaranteed to be a hit. Waiting for SiC I was accosted in sundry amusing ways: for example, two blokes sitting at a table in the corner shouted “Hey!” until I turned around, and then waved at me. Slick move, guys! You must be drowning in pussy! The fact of SiC actually arriving, sitting next to me and giving me a kiss did not deter my queue of suitors, either (they probably just thought he got there first – fair play). One guy sat right next to me and did that leering slow-nod thing (which gets me SO HOT) until SiC told him to fuck off, at which point he slurred something completely incomprehensible and wandered away looking hurt. A few minutes later a haggard woman with no teeth told us both to fuck off. Guess she didn’t like the competition. There’s no place quite like Powers, except maybe a halfway house on dole night.
SiC had arrived from a work Christmas party featuring a FREE BAR (those words must always be in capitals to emphasise their total awesomeness). His first enthusiastic words of greeting were, “Me and G and J finished off a whole bottle of gin!” Later on he insisted – loudly and repeatedly, in the street – that he was not drunk. Clearly the behaviour of a very not-drunk person. Who was a very penitent, sorry-looking person on the way to his meeting this morning.
We’re winding quickly down to Christmas, and instead of my usual bah-humbug garrumphing I will casually mention that I am going to Montpellier and Barcelona for my holidays. BARCA-FUCKING-LONA, baby! We’re renting a flat in the city centre for a week and SiC’s DJ friend is getting us into a hot club for free on New Year’s Eve. Sometimes my life doesn’t suck, like, AT ALL.
Just to maintain the status quo, though: I still hate my job.