Work, play, toys, tales, pity and pictures

Well well well. Where to start.

I've got a job. Just for a month, some simple office work, but it will be my First Proper Job. I'm not too nervous, actually; I've got a kind of "just do it" attitude that probably means I owe Nike royalties. In honour of doing this remarkably grownup thing, I've been making the necessary phone calls and running errands and finding paperwork and all sorts of impressively organised things. Mostly without hardly being threatened at all.

A friend of mine has bought a wii. This is, naturally, the perfect excuse to all go round his house and play that strangely addictive sports that involves odd limbless people that look almost, but not quite, entirely unlike you. I'd like it to be known that I absolutely kicked ass until we started playing a proper game.

I miss the days when I used to rule the world at DOA3. Out of sheer sudden cravings for that game, I started playing on Gav's Soul Calibre 2. Methadone.

I had a very detailed dream last night. The best way to remember dreams is to repeat them to yourself out loud in the morning. I thought it all through in detail, figuring that's more or less the same, and it hasn't worked. Booooo.

Gav had his hair straightened, and it made him very happy. He looks really good too, so we've bought some straighteners to share. Hooray!

Gah - remember my crushingly embarrassing bikini story? I had the opportunity to tell a rather lovely person the whole thing, and our mutual friend told me that she'd read my blog post on the matter at work on a rubbish day and that it cheered her up. I mostly write this blog for me, but that kind of comment truly brightens up my day.

Also, my toe hurts. I tripped over the carpet last night. I hopped about for a bit looking pathetic before remembering that there was nobody here to feel sorry for me. That's why I'm telling you; I figure I'm karmically owed sympathy!

Some of you know about the cartoons that I made. Well my creative splurges now extend to graphics tablet doodles. Let me know what you think!

So, in summary, life is good and moving forward, and my addiction to Boots meal deals continues unabated.

So there I was, in my bikini...

In my defence, it could have happened to anyone.

I was in Gav's apartment doing some housework when there was a knock on the window. A knock on the window means one thing: that Gav's home; so I went bounding outside all excited to help him with his bike, and to show him the skimpy bikini and miniskirt that I'd bought that morning. I forgot to put the latch on, but that's ok, because he has the keys.

It wasn't him.

It was his landlady.

I haven't told you much about the landlady, but she's an interesting character. She's been known to come into the apartment with no warning, complain about the bicycle, and ask him if he's got a girlfriend to clean for him, and if he could get her to come round more often. I was in the bedroom on the computer at the time, ready with a "Hi!" and a cheery wave when she poked her nose around the door. That was bad enough. This was quickly to become far, far worse.

I let her in, embarrassed by the situation already, and believe me it got a LOT worse! She made polite conversation for a bit, talked about the paint that had been chipped off the banister by Gav's bike, and then the crashing realisation came that I was outside a locked apartment with no keys, phone, shoes, or dignity.

I had to mention this to her in the hope that she'd have her keys. She always brings her keys with her, she said, except for this once, what a terrible coincidence, and she'd forgotten to bring her phone, and oh dear, when was Gav going to be back?

It was quarter to 7 at the time, and he was going to be home any time between half 7 and 8, so I told her that I'd happily wait in the hallway, that I'd be absolutely fine to wait, no really I would. She wouldn't hear of it. "That could be over an hour! Oh no, we can't have that. I'll have to go back to Newport to get them, and you'll have to come with me."

I was very very worried. If Gav came home to find the lights and radio on but me vanished without a trace, what would he think? So I insisted that I should stay put. "Leave him a note", she said, and I gave her a look of desperation that conveyed the message 'this miniskirt does not conceal a stationery set', so she passed me an envelope and a pen. and told me to write that I've gone to Newport with Mrs ********. This I obligingly did, and tucked it in the doorframe over the keyhole so that he'd definitely see it.

I left the corridor and closed the front door behind me, thinking 'well, it's too late to go back now', and padded barefoot to her car. I sat with my arms crossed casually across my chest while we made polite conversation about Venice; and how girls should be taught to cook and clean at school; and how one of her tenants was a lovely lady, a professor, intelligence runs in the genes of that family, but she was going to marry a woman. Well, I mean honestly, have you ever heard the like. And so on.

So there I was in my bikini. Desperately trying to appear respectable and respectful, and no doubt failing miserably. Telling her about university, answering her questions about whether Gavin and I were serious (we are. As you must know by now.)

Anyway eventually the cruel and unusual torture ended; we got back to Cardiff and back to the building, and she unlocked the door for me, complaining that the coffee waiting for her upstairs was no doubt stewed by now, because she made real coffee of course...

So I went inside

And I sat down

And I giggled and roffled to my little heart's content.

I mean, yes it was humiliating, but you have to laugh or you'd just die of shame! Instead, it has to be a little victory, an example of overcoming overwhelming something-or-other and coming out stronger (and much amused) the other side.

That evening, Gavin and I went to Jenni's house to watch The Apprentice with a few friends. He started a couple of conversations with "Guess what Anna did today", but bless his heart, he was more shocked than angry. Thanks goodness he tolerates my extreme sillies!

I won't make that mistake again. I'm thinking of having a tongue piercing that I could put the keyring through.

Not really.

Interesting thing of the day: animals on the underground! (Remember, all past ITOTDs are available in a list to the left.)