So....you're all wondering how my DATE went with Martin last night? Well it was..magical!
Martin told me all about himself: he's a music producer and has just finished producing Nelly Futaro's latest album 'I'm a Hoe Bag: Come Over Here', which is set to be released in June. He lives in Chalk Farm and drives an Audi TT. Overall he's a bit of catch. Not that I'm really into all that kind of stuff you realise, I mean I'm generally highly non-materialistic. When I grow up I want to live on a farm.
We went to this adorable Chinese in China Town and I was really enjoying my dim sum, reminiscing about the old times at Downing College, CAMBRIDGE, when all of a sudden there was a bad smell and I looked up to see Gerald (my ex) entering the room with some pubescent blond (wearing a backpack) on his arm. You can imagine my…ANGER!
I immediately feigned a headache and Martin and I left. But Gerald did not get away that easily- oh no.
I pretended I had left my scarf inside and when I returned I walked right up to Gerald’s table and tipped an entire bowl of prawn crackers all over his head, squishing some into his eyes. I then screamed:
“I hate you Gerald you wanker! The fact that you have the gall to show your measly, squirming face in a nice Chinese like this where people come to eat really does seal your fate as one of the cheapest people I have ever met! Just die you repulsive piece of shit!”
The blonde started to cry and a waiter grabbed my arm, I think someone called 999, but I just had to get it off my...my...chest.
So you can imagine my embarrassment when I turned round to see Martin standing right behind me, jaw dropped.
I explained, we had a DMC (deep meaningful conversation) and he really understands what I’m going through. It turns out Martin is actually divorced: he found his wife cheating on him. I didn’t want to pry, because I'm so sensitive, but it turns out that she was sleeping with her gynecologist: I KNOW.
So yes lady readers love might finally be blossoming for Posie... At the end of the night he walked me home and we kissed! But after only a couple of seconds of mouth to mouth Martin felt something wet on his left and I looked down to see Emmeline Pankhurst (my cat) pissing on his trousers. When I asked her what she was doing she told me to "piss off" and then proceeded to laugh at her own joke for about five minutes. I think she was drunk. She really is acting very strangely these days and I have a sneaky feeling that she doesn't like Martin, which is strange, because Martin is literally the nicest guy ever…
But on a more negative note check out this abysmal article (click below) in The Times by Zoe Lewis who wants to live in her kitchen and has abandoned her feminist roots (silly b***h). I am scheduled to go and see her awful play 'For the Very First Time' starring Sadie (yuk) Frost in a few weeks. I shall pack some mouldy tampons to throw at the rotten bunch.
Plus check out this incredible (new, for once, I know, I am traditionally a traditionalist) book Wetlands by Charlotte Roche:
Of course I have not been shaving my armpits long before her. I also think my art-short 'blood soaked tampon et al' (please see the subject headings >) goes much further to probe the underbelly of female vaginality, puberty and eventual corporeal determinationism.
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