This weekend was ... interesting, to say the least.
I sat triumphantly at a table eating a nicely sauteed calamari and shrimp platter, while everyone else there ate what they later realized was meat from the face of a cow served to them by a waitress whose mole looked like she had a "tick feeding off her nose". BWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Ahh, the satisfaction of being a vindicated pescatarian.
Too bad my contact lenses started to bug me to the point where I had to throw them away on the way home and was all but blinded for the next 24 hours or so :/
Friday afternoon, I was half way through my second HUGE mug of beer and feeling happily light-headed when I realized that I had to be sober, showered and sexy in the next 15 minutes because I was to accompany Le Garçon while he dropped off his calling card at a few hotels. I barely made it on time, fumbling around the house in obscenely high heels and my uncle's old bifocals that made me look like Harry Potter with boobs. And, and, and ... INSPITE of all the trouble I took, he laughed when he saw me. HE LAUGHED!
Too bad the next time he got out of the car, he tripped, nearly sprained his ankle and was in pain for the rest of the evening.
(Note to Garçon: I'm sorry you were in so much pain. I didn't like watching you limp like that, it was only slightly funny. I'm just pointing out the Karma here.)
I had the best time though, because we laughed so much. On our mission to find a certain form of entertainment, we hobbled around, me half-blind and with my sadistically high heels and him with his sore ankle, both looking like escapees from the nuthouse, being given the runaround by kabayans and unwelcoming hostesses and being sent to the Evangelical Church for redemption. We eventually gave up because he figured that they were "unworthy of our presence".
Best of all though, was we got to spend the day together... which is a very, very rare thing.
On a completely unrelated note, I hope sex is always as much fun as it is now. I never want to get to where it becomes a chore.