Actors or Chocolate...

Midday:

I hear noise!! Don't you understand that I am sleeping? Noise! NOISE!!

"Dean are you awake?"
"What?"
"It's Corinne on the phone... (to the phone) 'he's still in bed, rather decadent'"

I hold out my arm without looking at him and grumble into the phone.

"What's wrong"
"I've just seen *actor* and he's beautiful, I can't hold out much longer. I'm going to cave in. All my defense's are failing rapidly!"
"Put down everything you are holding except your phone"
"Right. Done"
"Do not touch the strawberries"
"They're in the fridge. Does a strawberry yogurt count?"
"Yes. Stay away. Get chocolate"
"I have a chocolate croissant?"
"That'll do"

Chocolate always counteracts the desire for a man. ALWAYS!

I decide that talking, or at least grunting down the phone will pre-occupy the mind of the besotted, femme fatale...

"... and then she said I could blah, blah, blah, stay with her. Have I spoken enough about my own life to stop you thinking about the one you can't have?"
"Yes primarily. Although I did have a little epiphany half way through"
"Oh dear. More chocolate is needed. I demand you leave the digs, and get yourself a good bar of Green and Blacks, it's a good sexual depressant"

We finish our conversation and say our goodbyes.

Director boy looks at me, winks and gives that cheeky smile...

"So that's why the sex has dropped off"

I glare at him.

"Don't be giving me evils"
"I'm not. It's animocity"

We both giggle.

But chocolate is now banned from our house hold*





*This is why I buy it from Tesco on the Strand on the way into work. Oops.

Always an interesting journey...

I stumble onto the bus, wet and slightly annoyed at having to go into work early because of the previous nights events. The shelter of the bus seems like a small safe haven from the incessant drops of rain, dripping down my face and into my eyes. Blurring the world, allowing me to retreat to a place in my own thoughts.
As I get onto the bus the heat hits me and I feel faint. The heavy enclosed heat from the day's passengers makes it difficult to breathe, and as each new traveller seeks a place, we all fight for the small piece of new air. I settle at the back with my copy of 'Harry Potter' and a put up my feet.
The world seems calm as I focus on the troubles of the fictitious world on the page in front of me.

A woman in her mid-forties dressed in a pair of white slim jeans, heals, and a trench coat makes her way to the back of the bus. I stay immersed in my book as the problems get more and more entwined and danger is eminent. She looks at me, then at my feet in such disdain, I move them naturally and out of politeness. She brushes the seat with her manicured hand, tuts, then sits with a copy of the rental pages. Once more I'm back into my book. My feet ache and there is a spare seat opposite, so once more my foot graces the seat. As more people crowd onto the bus the woman is forced to move over, once again the same routine of tutting and glaring. I move my feet before she says anything, but that doesn't stop her. She smiles in a way I know is going to cause confrontation and moans about the law of 'feet on seat'. I shoot her a look then go straight to my book.
A few minutes later, her trench coat slips from her side to reveal the immaculate trousers that are stained in several areas, with grass and what looks like red wine. A.K.A. last nights outfit. I smile to myself and feel a great sense of satisfaction. Karma.

As I get off the bus, and uncomfortable catches of one anothers eyes have passed I decide to apologise. I ring the bell and pick up my bag. We catch one anothers eye once more and I realise this is it...

"I'm sorry about the foot thing" Says I. She looks up and smiles that same little grin she'd used earlier.
"I suppose you don't need any more stains on those trousers". And with that I walk off the bus.

When all the world is a hopeless jumble... WALK!!

I shut my locker door and walk. I walk so quickly without looking back or acknowledging any persons in sight. I run down the stairs, sign out and leave. Breathe.

Director Boy looks at me with a smile, I feel bad as I return a scowl and announce that "we are walking". Each night when I leave work and he is waiting for me, we go to the nearest bus stop, unless something has happened in which case I vent my frustration and anger out on my feet and we walk, across London to Selfridges passing my 'feel good' shops.

This was one of those nights.

I explain to Director Boy that evenings events, and he declares we walk.

We talk and discuss the options. In the end we decide that walking was the best option. Is always the best option, as new shoes and cashmere always diffuse the situation.

When we finally get on the bus we both produce copies of 'Harry Potter' and agree that Green and Black's chocolate and Eggs Benedict are the order of the day.

Midnight Matinees...

Midnight Matinees will mostly include:

1, Your old employers turning up and recognising you.

2, Seeing the rest of the West End all wearing the same outfit.

3, Laura Michelle Kelly.

4, H from steps.

5, A Fire Evacuation at 2am.

6, Free Pizza.

7, Conversation with 'Alice'. A.K.A. Annalene Beechey.

8, Getting home at 3:30am in a Taxi and looking forward to getting into bed.

New Shoes and Substance Abuse

L: "... so this guy asked if I wanted a lime and coke. I was smashed out of my head and wanted something softer. Then he gave me his credit card and said 'meet me in the toilets in 10 mins'. Then I realised he said a LINE of coke"

Me: "Shit really"

A: "Have you ever tried it before?"

L: "Once. But never again. Did you ever sniff Prit Stick at school? lol Sometimes I couldn't get through the day without a whiff of a permanent marker"

Me: "That's like serious substance abuse"

D: "I once got a headache from smelling new shoes"