I may be getting a little ahead of myself, but I'm drawing up a list of things I'm going to buy once I find myself a job. Obviously somewhere to live would be top of the list, but I haven't been able to do a proper shopping spree in a while and it's all built up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. I stood in front of a shop window yesterday eyeing up a pair of Vivienne Westwood shoes and could feel the slightest sensation of a tiny bit of saliva starting to ease it's way out of the corner of my mouth. My eyes glazed over and I felt almost the same sensation I get when I look into Mr Z's dreamy blue eyes. Don't tell him I said that though.....
I'm also looking at tattoo designs as I feel it's about time I mutilated my body again, for the sake of art of course. I have two Chinese symbols on my shoulder which mean Luck and Prosperity. At least that's what I believe they're meant to say. For all I know I could have number 12 and number 9 of the local Chinese takeaway menu on my fricking back. They look good anyway, regardless of whether they say Luck - or Crispy Won Ton. I've picked out a few designs which I shall be sharing with my man and my closest friends, as they're the only opinions that count. Mind you, if I find a design I really like but they think it looks stupid I'll listen to their reasoning - but get it done anyway. Stubborn ass that I am.
Mr Z is off to Brighton for a stag do this weekend. I'm keeping myself occupied, as the thought of a size zero, big titted stripper sticking her butt and jubblies in my boyfriends face is an image I'm finding hard to banish from my mind, much to my displeasure. The trust is there, but you know what us women are like - none of us like to see any other woman prettier or slimmer than us flaunting that very fact in front of an impressionable boyfriend! There's a slight concern he might be forever looking at us in a different light and thinking "I wish she had a butt like that pole dancer", or, "I wish my girlfriend could do that thing with a ping pong too...". I wouldn't give a guy a hard time about it, insecurities can fuck things up royally, but I'm looking forward to being distracted and not thinking about the weekend at all. Obviously I hope he has a good time, and I'm not stupid, I know what occurs at stag do's - I crashed one with a few mates a couple of years ago (coincidently, I will never ever drink Absinth. Ever.) - "When In Rome" and all that. I just don't want to hear the full details. What happens in Brighton stays in Brighton. Unless it includes cheating. Cheating should always be 'fessed up no matter what any magazine agony aunts might say! I trust Mr Z in that respect though, he knows my milkshake will bring him back to the yard. ( I can't quite carry off that statement can I...?).
The job interview went well yesterday and I should hear by tonight if I've got it or not. Several more in the pipeline, things looking up. All I can do is hope. In fact, that could be my tattoo. I think I'd better Google a nice Chinese symbol for "Hope". But maybe run it past the guys at my local takeaway first.
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