...sounding like a broken record now; but I see Cute Li'l Art Girl once a week, and it's the best part, and I don't want it to end. Some stuff that happened tonight :

I knew I'd be working with her, so I shaved my face, got my flatmate to shave my head, showered just before my shift, wore my favourite T... When she arrived, she looked stunning. It was really busy, so we hardly got a chance to speak much for a while, but when we did, I told her I hadn't had a chance to tell her how lovely she looked. That was an exceptionally gay thing to tell her, I know... but she did. She told me that she'd just thrown a bunch of make-up in the air and face-butted it. I almost fell over.

She told me she liked hairy men. I offered to show her my butt. I guess you'd had to have been there to appreciate the subtle beauty of this moment.

I said something flirty to the other lady I was working with. Cute Li'l Art Girl told me that I flirted with all the ladies; and that she wished I wouldn't, as it made her jealous.
"I imagine you say that to all the guys," I said.
"No. No, I don't," she replied, in complete earnest.

She's been arguing with her man. A lot. She's decided to finally stick up for herself. I thought this kind of thing was confined to bad scripts, but it seems that it really happens.

And there was more. Much more. But regardless of how much I convince myself that she needs to be saved, I also believe that there's a saying that's got something to do with frying pans and... er... something else wot I can't quite recall.

...opportunity until it's too late. A cute customer was tickled pink by my accent this evening. She told me that the English accent brought her out in goosebumps. I told her that, considering how many Britlanders there were milling about the city centre, she must spend most of her waking day lumpy.

What I should have said : "If you'd like to spend an entire evening with goosebumps, you could let me take you out for a drink."

I am stupid.

...day off. Tuesday is a sucky day to have off, as everyone else is at work. And I have no net, as I'm moving house; so I'm in an internet caff surrounded by folk talking loudly in Chinese, singing, and *really obviously* looking at my screen to see what I'm doing.

So I called up Cute Li'l Art Girl - as I knew she wasn't working today - and asked her if she'd like to come out and play. She politely declined, as someone was popping by her place to sort out her scanner and give her some Photoshop pointers. As Charlie Brown might say, AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. I thought I was gonna be giving her those. Curses. And double curses.

...out of my own blog.

...a new girl. She's an insomniac from Doncaster, and she makes my head dance. I am not normally bold enough to ask someone if I can join them in a drink, but one of my colleagues told me that if I didn't ask her out, she'd do it for me; and I'm far too British to cope with that kind of malarkey. So I surprised myself by taking that step myself.

And guess what ? 'Friend Zone' reached in about six minutes. What the fuck's all that about ?

...a repressed homosexual. A burly Welshman who met me yesterday evening described me to a mutual friend as "a bit fluffy around the edges" after I'd left. I also register as a very audible 'blip' on the gaydar. And whilst trying to persuade my work collegues that I was actually heterosexual, they contended that I *would* argue this, as the whole point of being repressed is that I wouldn't actually realise that I was gay in the first place. It was quite a persuasive agument.

I further convinced myself that they might be onto something when a bloke was making a delivery; and when he handed me a scribe with which to autograph the invoice, I had to stop myself from saying "ooh - you've got a nice pink pen". Really. Uh-oh.

...that my new friends are bed-bugs. Ewww.

Apparently they don't fly, and aren't very good at dealing with slippery surfaces. So, at the recommendation of a pest management website, I smeared vaseline all over the legs of my bed. I have to confess that, whilst doing so, I did feel a little silly.

...the mandatory weekly Cute Li'l Art Girl post. I was really looking forward to having a shift with her, as I see her but once a week. And she was in the kitchen all day. And I was working the floor. I have to admit to being envious of everyone working in the kitchen; as they got to talk to her all day long, whilst I delivered half-shot soy latte bowls to thankless suits.

*BUT*

...a bunch of us did have drinks after work. Which have not long ended. And it was suggested rather strongly by Cute Li'l Art Girl that we should gather round my place (oh yes) for videos and pizza some night next week. And maybe even bring blankets and pyjamas. When she mentioned her pink jim-jams, I told her that I'd love to see her in them. She told me that they were the one of the least sexy things in the world. I can't believe that this is true. Anything stuck to her would become sexy by association. A binbag, month-dead fish, faeces... anything.

P.S. She told me at one point today that I have "a strange brain". That's a good thing, right ?

...days on the job solid, I am babooshed. Only another five to go.

Cute Li'l Art Girl took over my shift. I'd been up since 4.30 am, and then worked nine hours. I was not at my best. She arrived, took the wine menus, and frisbeed them at my face. This was the best moment of the last few months, hands down.

I've worked out that we will see each other less than ten times again in our lives, in all probability. And it's ripping by far too fast. What am I gonna throw into the machinations ? 

...a lot of the day writing limericks about other members of staff. Cute Li'l Art Girl dropped in for twenty minutes or so to speak to the boss, so I thought it might be an idea to write her one too. She laughed, but then left without saying goodbye. I hope she wasn't insulted.

It was much nicer than the ones I wrote about everyone else.

...a limerick. About other 20sixers.

I'll start us off :

There was a young lady called Gamba
Who favoured ballet over samba;
Even though her instuctor
Claimed that he'd fucked her
With some jam and a massive black mamba.

Go filth.

...the best work day; as not only do I get to spend six hours with Cute Li'l Art Girl, but we get to have drinks together after also. So we discussed the essence of faith (small 'f' - neither of us are godwits), what (if anything) ties us to a moral post, what we have thus far gleaned from our experience that structures our spirituality, and how art echoes our deepest psyche.

And what do I remember from all this ? She had to stand on a box in order to successfully skewer kebabs. And she had a new badge on her cap, with a ghost holding a bomb that said 'Boo'. I love her so much. Please make this end.

...that you'd be safe from my futile tales of unrequited love for the duration of my holiday. Well you were wrong. Ha.

Today I met a Finnish backpacker. We went on a wine trail with two other lovely gals. We all laughed. A lot. But she's the funniest ever. And she has a mouth like a sewer. And as of tomorrow moring, I will probably never see her again.

I need... What do I need ? Some permanence ? A slap ? Some whiskey ?