Limpid

Somehow, on Friday, an impromptu work lunch was organised. I just got caught up in the flow. It's amazing how silly some people can get after one glass of wine. There'd been some fairly fruity talk around the table and then it turned most sensibly to cricket but was brought back to basics again when one fellow declared, "I've got a third leg."

"More like a middle stump," said Canned Ham.

Things continued on in this vein for some time, me stone cold sober, taking notes and trusting in prudence. I don't know how it happened, but my ears tuned in on the conversation of a pair a little further down the table. I only hoped that what they were talking about wasn't related to the rubbish going on around me, because I recoiled a little when I heard the guy say, "Well, I might as well cut mine off. It's half-dead anyway."

Neither Afraid Nor Petrified

I got on the phone to k. to tell her I thought I'd perhaps seen the Hawt Will Ferrell look alike at the lights as I was driving home.

"Only problem is, he was driving like a Murano or a CRV or something - you know, family man."

"Yeah, those are family men cars. He's probably got kids."

"Three beautiful kids. And, even worse, a wife."

"She'll be blonde and gorgeous."

"Bugger."

"And she'll probably have one of those laughs."

"Ugh. One of those laughs."

"But let's face it, if that's the kind of woman he'd marry, you don't want to be with him."

Then we bickered for a while about the lyrics to I Will Survive. That's how we roll.

On the Cusp

Yesterday my electronic calendar died so I missed a couple of meetings and forgot that I had one in the afternoon. Right on meeting time, I was busy on the phone to New Girl, loudly berating her for confusing me about some stuff, when Canned Ham coughed politely at my office door and indicated the people waiting to see me.

After the meeting I got straight back on the phone to New Girl.

"What a disaster! I mean, the meeting itself was fine but I realised they were sitting at the table facing my desk and just look at it - empty coke bottle fallen over, bits of my lunch everywhere, my handbag tipped over and everything spilling out of it and a site up on the internet that's clearly not work-related."

"And on the upside," she said cheerily, "Not a bra in sight!"

A Separate Peace

Grumpy and I were having breakfast together on the weekend. We'd been keeping it fairly friendly and civilised when Grumpy started whinging about his love life and how he'd never get married again (obviously the first time was too psychologically scarring to contemplate another attempt and thanks for making that clear).

"Would you get married again?" he asked.

"It's not really a goal, but if I met the right guy and he wanted to, well, why not?"

"Of course, it could be awkward explaining to him that you haven't quite got round to divorcing your first husband yet."

Luckily the waitress arrived right at that moment, delivering the bowl of cream I'd had the foresight to order. Hope he didn't get any on his whiskers.

Snake Tales Look

I was driving along with Scarab and goodness knows how it came up but I said to her, "So Jessie Mo's brother wrote this blog for a while which was kind of like a defence of communism."

"What on Earth does that mean?"

"What do you mean? A blog? Communism?"

"No, defensive communism."

"Not defensive communism. I said, 'A defence of communism.'"

"Oh."

"Good one. Yeah, defensive communism: it's a whole new school of martial arts. You disarm your opponents with philosophy." [chops air] "Haaa! Capitalism alienates the worker from the means of production!" [chops air again] "HiiiiiiiiiYA! From each according to his ability, to each according to his need!"

"I think you've made your point."

Sometimes I feel so unappreciated.

Tea break's over, back on your heads!

We were about a quarter of the way through boot camp this morning and I was already dripping sweat, beetroot red and generally begging for the sweet embrace of death.

"Right!" barked the instructor, "I want you to get into pairs. One of you is number one and one of you is number two."

"Do you want to be number one or two?" asked my partner in suffering.

"I'll be number two - because that's what I feel like."

Thrifting the Spend

Last night I trundled up to New Girl's to help her move her cross trainer from one room to another (Man Hands is away and thus not available to apply his manly hands to the task). I'd been idling my time away at home when she'd texted me:

I need you to come over and help me move this maldicion cross trainer! Not NOW just whenever.

I felt the pain in the plain text and zooted straight up to her place. Well it didn't take long to move the equipment and then we took up flopped positions on the couches in the living room to contemplate the world and all that it contains: specifically, our marvellous selves. We were talking about our mutual Frugality Drive, in which we vow and declare not to spend any money - not counting all those clothes I bought last weekend, and possibly also not counting the new car she and Man Hands just bought. Other than that, it's frugality all the way. Starting right now. Totally.

One of New Girl's frugal options is to make her own iced coffee at home, rather than stopping at Muzz Buzz each morning on her way to work. Given her rampant caffeine addiction, and the price of a Muzz Buzz iced coffee, this seems like a good place to start. I've decided - well, the decision was kind of forced on me with the loss of my free car park - to stop driving to work every day and to catch the bus a minimum of three days a week. It's been a while since I've graced any form of public transport and I have to say that I'm quite looking forward to giving the great unwashed the benefit of my presence each day.

I begin this charitable work tomorrow. I see from the weather site that it's going to be a warm day, and it's only getting warmer for the next few months. My only hope is that when I jump on the trusty 881 that the great unwashed is a metaphor only and that my fellow passengers are right up to date with their ablutions and liberal applications of deodorant.

It's the journey, not the destination.

With the way she carries on - "I've been on my own for twelve years!" - Canned Ham would have you think that since the demise of her marriage she has been a tragic, loveless spinster. The truth is a little different. The Ham has had many suitors and by her own admission has deliberately chosen not to settle down with any of them. She'd prefer to play the field than stake it all on a single...well...stallion.

Recently, one old flame - a rogue by all accounts - has drifted back on to the scene and Ham was going out to dinner with him and a few others last Friday night. She'd mention this approaching dinner every now and then and each time I'd feel compelled to question The Canned One's ability to resist this man's charms.

"Don't go there, hb!" she'd say. Or else she'd vow, "I'm not going there!" And so it went all week. The Ham was not "going there" and no one else was to even contemplate "going there" either. It didn't matter where there was, or what the, er, route, might be like, she was not interested in going, or even being, there, and the rest of us were well advised not to "go there" with regard to whether she went there or not, which she most emphatically wasn't doing.

When I came in to work on Monday and I finally saw The Ham, I asked her, "Well?" A look was all reply I got. Did she go there? Did she not go there? The answer may have to remain a mystery. All I know is, I won't be rifling through her rubbish looking for any ticket stubs.

Indeed

From: hazelblackberry@
Sent: 07 October 2009 3:13 PM
To: Jessie Mo@
Subject: RE: XX strikes again

.....I was thinking that if I ever went on RSVP, my profile would start like this: I plan to make some lucky man very unhappy one day. New Girl suggests I add: Don’t squirm so, Little Man, it could be you!

From: Jessie Mo@
Sent: Thursday, 8 October 2009 6:23 AM
To: hazelblackberry@
Subject: RE: XX strikes again

I like your clarity around what the man will get out of a relationship with you.

Whether You Heart or Hate Etsy

Regretsy

Thanks to Ngaire for the link.