Saturday 11 August - Of Hickeys, Tans, and Colds

Let's play the good news/ bad news game.

Good News: I met a tall good looking blonde guy on Thursday night, a friend of a friend of a friend.
Better News: He has a brain to match the looks and we went outside the bar and talked for a long time.
Even Better News: He's a good kisser.
Mo Better News: He has a tongue piercing.
Bad News: He left a huge hickey on the left side of my neck. We're talking more black than purple. I am now attempting some friends' advice and am rabidly applying toothpaste to the hickey, as rumour has it that toothpaste is good for getting rid of love bites, as well as drying up your spots and whitening your teeth.
Worse News: He has a girlfriend. This I find out during a break in the snogfest. Thanks for the hickey, don't call me I'll call you, bud. *sigh* I really know how to pick 'em, eh? And trust me, you don't even want to hear about a few of my ex's. Celibacy would be so much easier; unfortunately, that persistent sex drive I have tends to screw with my best laid plans of spinsterhood and an apartment full of cats, with cupboards full of batteries.



Good News: I ditched work yesterday and laid on the beach with my girl friend, where we promptly exchanged stories from the previous night and enjoyed the sun before it disappeared for the next three days in a torrent of rain. The water was cleaner than usual as some fierce winds kept the ocean nicely churned (not to mention pretty much everyone is on vacation, so not as many people leaving trash everywhere)
Better News: I'm really tan.
So-so news: Not tan enough to hide the hickey. For that, I think I'd have to pull a reverse Michael Jackson.
Bad News: I woke up with a cold. I can't decide if it's from swimming in the ocean yesterday or if it's from Hickey Boy. I think the latter, as my sinuses were already slightly clogged yesterday, but I had just attributed it to the massive amount of smoke in the club the previous night.

Good News: It's my friend's birthday. Which means we're all getting together tonight to celebrate.
Bad News: The guy I went out with on the date at the Lake will be there.
Worse News: I don't have any summer-weight turtlenecks.
Better News: My girl friend has a turtleneck I can borrow.
Crossing-My-Fingers News: My girlfriend's tits are twice as big as mine. I hope the shirt fits. If not, I'll just slap a plaster over the hickey and say I cut my neck during a freak armpit-shaving accident.