What was supposed to happen on Friday: Meet T in The Bar for her leaving do. Go to crappy-oke. Sort it out with Martin. Have fight with Boyf. Regular Friday shenanigans.

What actually happened Friday: None of the above.

I got in from work and had a shower and that, and moaned to The Boyf about going out. You know when you really don't feel like it? And everything you put on looks like shit, and your hair's crap and you keep fucking up your make-up? It was one of those. I was headed into town but he was going straight up The Local. Luckily I managed to flag a cab on my way to the bus so I actually got into town waaaay earlier than I expected. So I knew T wouldn't be in The Bar and I'd have to hold my own. Which was okay cos lovely Dazza'd be there.

Which he was, bless him. Dazza, being the IT bod that he is, became aware of my presence here on 20six following my rather embarrassing delete! delete!! delete!!! incident the other week. So we were stood there, chatting away about blogging and it was really weird and cool to be talking about it in a public place. Working With Dead People and Miss Morgan both got mentioned in amongst the usual suspects. I almost spat my drink all over him when we were discussing secret 20six signs and he spoke (in brackets) You had to be there but I assure you, it was v. funny. Honestly!

Rather more to the point, I met someone totally cool. Actually I knew her before but I was pretty much completely terrified and incredibly jealous of her. Last time I saw her was The Night I Fell Asleep, and even then I could barely mumble hello to her without going red and shuffling. However, with the addition of several pints and the removal of certain boys, we got on like a house on fire. By the time T turned up we'd agreed we were both wonderful, boys were a bit annoying and that we should go out for a drink sometime soon. Wicked.

More later...must do work at work....tsk...

T arrives (everyone's been waiting for her, as it's her leaving do) and we....leave...and head up to The Local, just the two of us.

And walk into some surreal shit. If only I was a better writer and knew some bod at BBC2...I'm sitting on a comedic goldmine. The crappy-oke guy had got offended by something/one and stormed out. Never one to let the side down TBS had driven to her house and brought back her electric piano and TBB (The Boyf's Bruv) who was only slightly pissed and agreed to sing and play for the evening (he's quite good actually.) So there's TBS (the only one in costume, remember?*) dressed as a vampiress, stood by the piano holding the mic from someone's home karaoke system for TBB to sing into. Bizarre is not the word.

T left. I guess she was disappointed (god knows, I was, I bloody love a bit of karaoke) her boyf (let's call him...hmm...Twat, as that's what he is, stayed) Well, I felt a bit sorry for Twat, sat all on his own, so I went over to sit with him. In case you haven't noticed, the jury is no longer out on him. They're unanimous. Should have realised I'd made a huge mistake when the first words out of his mouth were 'I know I shouldn't say this as you're T's best mate, but...' You know what? If you start a sentence with 'I know I shouldn't...' or (it's evil twin) 'don't take this the wrong way...' don't fucking bother finishing it. What is the point? If you're aware what you're about to say is vindicative/hurtful/just plain daft why are you bothering me with your stupid bloody words? Did your mother never tell you: if you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all?

So all he wants to do is sit there and moan about his relationship (with, as has already been noted, one of my best mates) and then comes his piece de resistance, he reckons he can sum up the situation thus: T wanted to watch You've Been Framed, he wanted to watch some archaelogical shit. She won. And then - unbe-fuckin-lievably, he reveals that he fancies moi, because I am pretty and edumacated.

What a bloody idiot. What a pretentious fucking nob. Yeah, I went to university. But I'd rather watch a cat fall off a TV than Tony Robinson prancing around in a ditch.

You know the sort of people I mean. The sort that watch Trisha cos it's 'just so kitsch and funny'. No, you're watching Trisha because it's good TV. It's entertaining. You don't need to make an excuse to watch it in case someone thinks *shock*horror* you're uneducated. (I'm not really talking about a class divide here [Daisy got it right about that this morning I think] it's more about pseudo-intellectualism.) Why are they so fuckin scared of boys who tuck their trackies into their socks and girls who wear Elizabeth Duke jewellery? Everyone on this earth is a fuckin human being and everyone deserves respect unless they've done something specific to lose it.
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If he'd revealed he fancied me purely on the basis that I have nice tits or something maybe I wouldn't have thought he was such a git. But how out of order is that? I know you might not think I have any morals, but the ones I've hung onto do include a) not fuckin chatting up your best mates bit of stuff, and b) not letting yourself get chatted up by your best mates bit of stuff. So I left him sat there on his own. Like I said - TWAT.

*actually, Nan (not really anyone's Nan, but we all call her this) turned up after a while done up as a witch. Think I took a pic, I'll have a look.

**edit** aesthetic reasons

I hung out with The Boyf and chums for the rest of the evening, we had such a laugh - we didn't get in til 3ish, and even then we took a carry out (bottle of wine and a cpl of bottles of bud) so I didn't get to bed til waaay too late. Also, I finished the Andy situation very elegantly - he txt to see where I was, and I said I wasn't coming into town and wasn't he seeing someone now? And he said, well, kinda, and I said well, give her a chance you know? Told him I thought he was foxy, wished him luck etc and let's just leave it at that. Deleted him from phone book. Well done me.

That's what I meant, I think, in my bizarre moblog, about things being different.  Going to The Bar, and being able to talk about 20six, really exorcized my He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-For-Legal-Reasons demons. Plus the coolest person I spoke to all evening was a girl, and I wasn't even disappointed Martin wasn't there. I actually feel okay.

Went  out with S and Dee on Sat and discovered a new drink - vodka mudshake (mmm..vodka/chocolate) Not strictly the only drink I discovered this weekend as I also tried a 'diet' breezer. Wasn't until I got some of the filthy concotion in my mouth that I realised it was Orange and Vanilla flavoured. What? Orange and vanilla? Blee. Both of them commented I looked different when I walked in - taller somehow. Most talk of the evening centred around Dee's on again/off again frustrating rltnsp with yet another of T's house mates. Which led to a mention of H-W-S-N-B-N. 'What was he like?' asked S (who never met the poor bloke) 'He wasn't like us...he was...beautiful' said Dee. I spluttered a load of chocolate vodka at this description but I guess she summed it up. C'est fini.

T txt me for a quick beer last night, so I obliged. All she talked about was how wonderful her boyf, sorry, Twat is, and how she's going to move in with him etc etc I felt horrible. The one time in my life I don't do something, and I feel so, so guilty. I'm not going to tell her obvs, as this will look like sour grapes, just gonna keep playing devil's advocate and pointing out bits of him that are crap. Hopefully this will work. Bizarrely, I've never been in this situ before. I don't really know what to do.

1. Keith finally let us know what happened in the scary castle. I was losing sleep.

2. Company Xmas Do confirmed as......Ascot - woo! Horsies! Champagne! Ability to almost bankrupt self with badly thought out bets!

3. Company have asked me, yes, me to go to the London exhibition at the end of Nov. In Russell Square! I'll be able to pretend I'm professional/come to any offers of blinx/pick up strangely marked bits of paper from tube stations! Wooooo! I can't wait!