End of the Day

Yes, its the end of the day, and I'm going home, so I have a few things just to add before I do. First, I just talked online to my friend JP, who neatly defined not being 'exclusive' to me - it means we fight like we are dating and can see other people. Neat. I'll try to avoid that one.

I spoke to my Dad on the phone today. I swear, he is the original metrosexual. He was just about to run outside and grill some sausages, but before he could do that, he got all excited about the clothes he had just bought for a trip to France. "I got some, what are these called, oh yes, distressed jeans, and a pair of closed toed sandals, and I'm very excited about a Hawaiian shirt I just ordered from Lands End". No wonder I am obsessed with clothes, with a father like that?

The Boy has developed a new character that makes me laugh uncontrollably. Previous characters have included the Pufferfish and the Dancing Cowboy. His latest is the Dirty Old Man. This involves him breathing whilst making a disgusting rattling sound in his throat, which conjours images of men dressed in formerly white wife-beaters with sweat stains and grey Y-fronts. He created this whilst we were driving back from Cornwall and I discovered an ad for 'open-minded telephone operator' paying £10/hr. Since I am the biggest prude ever, and can't even say certain words such as pussy (I can type them, but my mouth won't make the words. Believe me, I've tried), I doubted my capabilities for this job, but The Boy thought it would be helpful if we did some role-playing to test my aptitude, hence the Dirty Old Man. Needless to say, I failed hopelessly.