The weekend wrap up

I had an interesting weekend. A couple of things happened.

I played Frisbee for the first time (although this may be like ‘I’ve never been to Hamburg’ when indeed, I was there in 1988 and forgot)

I met three people in one night that I didn’t like

I quite obviously acted like I didn’t like these people because they picked it up straight away.

Now, I know in regards to the last two points, some of you are going, nooooooo, you being subtle about not liking someone? Never! But seriously, it was in the first sentence with each of them that they made this claim that I didn’t like them. At the time it wasn’t true. But then this got me thinking. Do I not like them? Damn straight.

Let me set the scene. We had a house party. People came – phew, but a few mistakes were made:

1. Inviting the neighbours
2. Having my mum arrive the next day at 10am
3. Irish people meeting chicks at tube stations and then bringing them to a party of people they don’t know and then getting her to pose as his girlfriend

Now, for the most part, the house party was fun. The décor was excellent, even if I do say so myself. Tea lights were placed inside stolen lolly bags from Woolworths, the garden flooded because our drains suck and half of the garden was tramped into our house and we even had a dancefloor. Oh, and a token Sainbury’s trolley in the living room. Just for decoration of course.

Now, onto the tools.

Tool 1: Is one of our neighbours. He pissed all over our toilet floor. I don’t need to say any more do I? Oh wait, I do, he claimed the party sucked because there was no hip hop playing. I told him to go upstairs if he didn’t like the music. This was after he said I didn’t like him. I figured I had nothing to loose.

Tool 2: was highly offended when I asked who he was. I know, it’s very controversial asking random guests at your house party who they are. He consoled himself with some other random girl on our futon. It was romantic.

Tool 3: friend of neighbours and probably number one in the toolbox. In a nutshell; ‘I’m the biggest f*ckin’boxer in London man – yea’ (this was on repeat), throwing his drink again the wall (twice), jogging around the house punching the air Rocky style and bitching about how the party sucked. Plus he was the last to leave. At 5am he was still there punching the bloody air in the living room.

Oh, but in other news I’ve learned how to sleep with my ipod in my ears.

I also caught up with mum yesterday after furiously mopping and cleaning up 15 minutes before I was suppose to meet her. It was like the 90’s spray and wipe ad, but with waaay more dirt, no bad lipstick and Superman boxers.

I’m heading into dangerous territory (i.e the next age tick box) this week. I think I may cry. Plus, this time last year I was in Lake Como about to head to the Greek Islands. And now, I’m at work…looking up where I can go for high tea for my birthday day off – woo!