OK, so the weekend started in a, erm, mixed way. Friday night saw me out on the town, beer in one hand, gorgeous (and I mean *swoon* gorgeous) Spanish guy in the other. When I say 'in the other', I obviously mean figuratively speaking. At least at this part of the story.
Anyway, next comes an awful miscommunication of the sort that happens in loud bars with people of two nationalities speaking to each other in a language that is neither's mother tongue. I go to the bar to get us a drink. He thinks I've left and so he leaves, heading for his hotel.
I find out he's gone and so end up going on to another bar with a French guy that I know - well, I know him well enough to say hello to. All a bit odd, to be honest. And it gets odder.
Through no fault of my own - except for maybe a minor lack of discretion - me and the French boy end up being asked to leave the second bar. I'm so ashamed by this that I can't even begin to explain what happened, but it involved much embarassment, the shining of torches in faces and large security guards. Needless to say 'it wasn't my fault'.
I don't mind being occcasionally ejected from high-class establishments. But being thrown out of a bar where the standards are so high that they employ boys to dance naked in shower cubicles is pretty awful. Certainly not my finest hour.
Ho hum. At least my therapist will have something to tell his friends.
Anyway, upon being not-so-subtly ejected from said bar, I get a call from Spanish boy. He realised that I hadn't left and wanted to know where I was, what I was doing, whether I wanted a visitor. And as in all good romcom's the hero gets the girl (well, the guy) in the end. Reader, it was a beautiful moment.
As he leaves my apartment on Saturday morning, I'm left reflecting on how beautiful the world is - whilst busily ringing round friends to get their opinions on whether or not my behaviour merited being thrown out of the bar. It seems it pretty much did. God help me, where's the stop for the Hell Express?
Saturday evening brings me dinner with my Lovely French Friend and a couple of his friends from Holland. One of them is clearly crazy but absolutely lovely, the other is very lovely too and used to edit hard-core german porn movies for a living. The conversation was hilarious, ridiculous, over-the-top and very very good fun. I'm not sure that I've ever laughed so much in an evening.
We all got together again this evening, and the dutch couple told us how they'd had a fight at the Opera that afternoon - she'd asked the American man behind if he could chew his gum a little quieter and he called her a cunt. She called him an ugly bald fag and the boyfriend of both parties apparently had to break up a fight in the middle of the Queen of the Night's aria. I love that aria.
Anway, much laughter this evening, and I got to show the spoils of my day spent Christmas shopping. I'd been trailing round the shops all afternoon, looking for gifts for family and friends. I bought myself two pairs of shoes and then went for a couple of g&t's. Not very productive, but they are lovely shoes.
Mix in with all of this enough alcohol to keep the bar on the QE2 stocked for a month, amazing food (langoustine, yum; lobster, yum) and you have the makings of a fine old time.
But enough of my boring old weekend - what did you get up to?
26 commentaires:
I'm sorry, could you please repeat all of that? Especially the part about the torches in the face and being tossed out. I can't even turn my back on you for a minute without you getting into trouble. For god's sake, I should have been there.
But what exactly did you do?? Come on, spill. I woke up this morning feeling rather pleased with myself, having been told last night "That was the best blow job ever", only to be greeted with "Woah, what a night, I don't even remember leaving the bar". Damn. Now I'll have to do it again.
Lewis, you really should have been there. It was a hilarious weekend, packed to the rafters. I just wish I didn't let myself down quite so much (ok, that's a lie - I love it, ha ha)
12oti - It seems that we had a similar experience...that's all I'm saying on the matter. Except for the fact that you plan to do it again, and I can't go back to that bar for at least a year...
Aww, can we trade lives some weekend? I'd much rather do unspeakable things in a bar than heave plasterboard and schlep visitors around!
PS Interesting to hear that "cunt" is working its way into the American vernacular.
Not as exciting as yours by the sound of it, but it was pretty perfect, Christmas decorating on Saturday and a walk round Chatsworth estate on Sunday under blue sky's and loads of frost
Amy, I'll swap weekends with you when you're in rock chick mode - not when you're doing heavy duty renovations...! Sorry dear!
Brett, I love Chatsworth - sounds pretty idyllic to me.
I don't get much time to comment nowadays, but hell your weekend sounded like a lot of stuff to pack into two days. I spent the whole time learning about progress on plant-delivered oral vaccines against hepatitis B. Interesting, but no laughing involved.
I celebrated Sinterklaas! And I got really nice gifts. :) Oh and I went to two birthday parties and helped my mum install her new computer and cleaned up the house and snuggled with the boyfriend and now I need some me time *breathes in*. There you go.
So exactly how gorgeous was the Spanish guy? I need details! ;)
Jesus I hate you. My wife is stuck in the UK because of the protests at Stanstead (Plane Stupid - Plane Cunts more like)
So I've got to sort out babysiters for the kids for 2 more days because I'm on night shifts at the factory.
And I come to your blog to read about homosexual angst and all I find is epicurian debauchery.
Bastard.
Lola, sounds most unlike a barrel of laughs, sorry. Glad it was interesting though - and lovely to see you here again.
Marjolein, there you go again, snuggling with the boyfriend. I'm beginning to think you're obsessed...ha ha.
And the spanish guy? Like a younger, more latin Mark Ruffalo. Too beautiful. Out of my league.
Stew, that sounds like a pain in the arse. Do you have people locally that you can ask? Bloody nuisance protesters....
And I'm always happy to provide you with a shot of homosexual angst.....he he.
I know what you did and I don't find it that grievous an offense. I thought the French were "liberated" that way! Hell, I've done the same thing, right down to the torch in the face-- but all I got was a "break it up fellahs".
Well done you, in any case! We all need these events in our lives!
You love the aria .. I love the fight! I'm STILL waiting for you to tell me what your indiscretion was!
CB - I knew you'd find it reasonable behaviour. I love that I can't shock you, ha ha.
LaTanya, I sent you the email darling. Don't you open my mail these days?
holy moley! You can't NOT tell us what happened with the torches! Our minds think the worst type of filth then!... would that assumption be accurate?
Alan it wasn't the worst kind of filth. It was the best kind, he he.
No, really, it was just a moment of madness...and I was largely the victim in all of it ;-)
It snowed and we watched TV.
Rob, it sounds, erm, lovely. If cold.
Obsessed with my boyfriend? Hey, he's a hottie, how can I resist?
next weekend i swear i'll have a busy one.
I LOVE how you went shopping for family and friends and came back with two pair of shoes for yourself.
Really, I think we need more details about getting thrown out of the bar.
Marjolein, in that case not only how can you resist, but why would you? he he
Red, you should treat yourself now that you're an employed lady and all. Big night out in L.A. awaits...
Louise...you don't want the details, trust me. And the shoes are lovely. really lovely. But now I need to re-start christmas shopping.
I'm a disaster!
Aw, I was hoping you'd spill the real details. And I know exactly which bar you're talking about.
I was exhausted just reading about your weekend.
By the way, I think Mozart would have been thrilled by the nature of that argument during his aria.
Torny, I knew that you'd know which bar I meant...it's hard to come to Paris and not end up there at least once.
Victor, he'd have been thrilled, I'm sure!
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