You’d think that someone I’ve known since 1996 would know better than to invite me to a karaoke party!
And it’s not the first time. A standard party is bad enough, but a sing-along one sounds like hell to me!
Right now I should probably be at my workplace’s Summer Party, but instead I’m staying in. I live about an hour away from there, and as it’s in London zone 1, I have to spend several quid to get there (which is okay when I’m actually being paid to be there).
That’s not the main reason that I’m not going, of course. I have not named this blog The Urban Recluse for no reason. I’m not going because I don’t want to suffer through tedious small talk with people who just see me as the Admin Monkey (no offence to administrators or monkeys).
I can imagine myself standing around on the outskirts of the gathering, nursing a glass of orange juice, my gaze constantly returning to the clock on the wall. Is it okay to leave after half an hour or an hour? I ask myself.
When the 59th minute finally approaches, I collect my jacket and head towards the exit.
“You’re not leaving now, are you? The fun is just beginning!” says some inebriated partygoer.
I mumble something about feeling unwell or having to meet someone, and slip away.
Why bother going in the first place?
Regular readers will know that I don’t drink alcohol, but I do like these ads for their enticing, playful nature. That said, please don’t blame me if after looking at these images you decide to visit your local pub/bar/drink cabinet, drink yourself into a stupor and/or make a fool of yourself. But report back if you do, I love tales of debauchery and loss of self-control!
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I saw this ad in Brussels last summer, and liked its bold message and simple design.
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What a naughty pussy-cat!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged!
Yesterday I went to my friend Miguel’s place for a New Year’s get-together. He had invited a few of his other friends for food and relaxation. I was rather nervous, as I usually am when going to such an event where I don’t know anyone apart from the host.
His friend, Charlene and her 3 year old son were staying there for the holiday weekend, as well as Miguel’s mate, Rick, who is currently living in the front room for the time being. Later on, another friend Chantal turned up. We all feasted on chicken, rice, potato, etc. and chatted about random stuff.
In the late evening, after Chantal had left and the child had gone to bed, we somehow started talking about sex. I would call myself “open-minded” about sex, although I don’t sleep around I’m quite open to hearing about other’s exploits and adventures… Charlene was rather more forthcoming about her activities, boasting about oral sex, anal sex, sex during her period, female ejaculation (hers), receiving a lapdance from a girl in a stripclub, getting caught being naughty with a fella behind a curtain in the aforementioned nightclub, etc. Somehow she assumed that I was equally sexually active and was rather embarrassed when I later revealed that I haven’t been serious with a guy for a few years (though I dated a couple of times last year).
The discussion ventured onto the subject of “size”. Miguel and Charlene were adamant that it had to be big (at least 7 inches), as a hetero guy Rick didn’t express an opinion, and I told them that size didn’t matter to me, I was more concerned with other issues. Charlene didn’t believe me at first, but Miguel confirmed that I was looking for a deeper connection in a love interest.
I had fun and I didn’t want to leave, but I left at 11.45pm. Luckily the tube was still running and it didn’t take too long for me to get home.
Today, I haven’t done a thing. I’ve got two more days of freedom, I’m going to enjoy them. Over and out.