"2010 is going to be my year," is what my very charming and excellent friend "John" told me last week. "I'm going to take the bull by the gonads and milk its prostate dry. Yes, fuck-nudger; it's the year of my success."
That's the spirit, "John".
And, after securing a promotion at work (and getting rid of that weird lump) he certainly took to milking the bull's innards; "Hey," he told me, "Do you remember that chick, Paola? From Camden? Like, forever ago?" I didn't actually remember a girl called Paola from like forever ago, but on he rambled: "Well, over a year ago I met her in some bar, pulled her, got her number and promised her I would call her and take her out for a good time."
The Big Point he eventually got to was that he never called her up because before he could he went and met somebody else and embarked on a quest for Love with her instead. That lasted for quite a while, but, like most young love, sadly ended. So, skip to last week and "John" is now telling me that he finally text this Paola girl back - more than a year later. I scoffed at this move of painful desperation but was shown two fingers and told that he had actually secured a date. The silly bitch had actually agreed to meet him. She must have really liked him.
Anyways, I wished him luck, ensured he'd remembered to wash behind his ball sack and off he went on his Hot Date.
This is the email I got from him the next day:
Well, the lovely miss Paola stood me up. I have to take my rug off to her though, it was pretty funny. I'm standing at Camden station at half seven (the arranged time) and no sign of her. Perfectly natural to be a few minutes late so no panic. I wait for another 45 minutes and she still doesn't show so I'm feeling like a twat. Try calling, no answer. Text her to see what's happening…a few minutes later 'Oh.. you meant THIS year. I thought you wanted to meet next year, sorry! I'm busy this year.'
Witty bitch.
That's the spirit, "John".
And, after securing a promotion at work (and getting rid of that weird lump) he certainly took to milking the bull's innards; "Hey," he told me, "Do you remember that chick, Paola? From Camden? Like, forever ago?" I didn't actually remember a girl called Paola from like forever ago, but on he rambled: "Well, over a year ago I met her in some bar, pulled her, got her number and promised her I would call her and take her out for a good time."
The Big Point he eventually got to was that he never called her up because before he could he went and met somebody else and embarked on a quest for Love with her instead. That lasted for quite a while, but, like most young love, sadly ended. So, skip to last week and "John" is now telling me that he finally text this Paola girl back - more than a year later. I scoffed at this move of painful desperation but was shown two fingers and told that he had actually secured a date. The silly bitch had actually agreed to meet him. She must have really liked him.
Anyways, I wished him luck, ensured he'd remembered to wash behind his ball sack and off he went on his Hot Date.
This is the email I got from him the next day:
Well, the lovely miss Paola stood me up. I have to take my rug off to her though, it was pretty funny. I'm standing at Camden station at half seven (the arranged time) and no sign of her. Perfectly natural to be a few minutes late so no panic. I wait for another 45 minutes and she still doesn't show so I'm feeling like a twat. Try calling, no answer. Text her to see what's happening…a few minutes later 'Oh.. you meant THIS year. I thought you wanted to meet next year, sorry! I'm busy this year.'
Witty bitch.
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