...a lot worse than listening to some Architecture In Helsinki. Especially if you are in the mood to gut some people (the cockgraters at AOL, for example).

Urge to kill... subsiding.

Whimsy levels... rising.

Possibly the best piece of advice I have ever been given is "don't be grrrr; be la-la".

...goes round the moon."

No it doesn't.

It can - of course - snow in June. Especially in the Southern Hemisphere. But the sun doesn't *ever* go around the moon.

What is the stupidest song lyric ? I suspect this one might be quite high up there.

(P.S. I appreciate that this isn't a very 'finger on the pulse' observation; but I was listening to the Me First and the Gimme Gimmes version. Really I was...)

Some young ladies on 20six (the delightful Gamba, for example) have expressed surprise that I am perpertually single. They might be less confounded were I to present the flipside. A good example of exactly why I don't have me a lady occurred yesterday evening. Now, the combination of Lemonsquash, ladies and liquor often leads to disaster. To wit, libations encourage my mouth to open, and noise invariably spouts forth.

The scene - local pub, near closing time. Most of the group has disbanded, leaving only Lemonsquash and Smiley Surf-Shop Gal. Surely an ideal opportunity for wooing ? Read on...

LS : So why did you quit your job at [newly opening café-bar] anyway ?
Smiley Surf-Shop Gal explains how, basically, she became frustrated at the manager's faffing, and the fact that nothing was getting done fast, so she moved on amicably.
LS : So you'd say that you're quite a driven and retentive person, then ?
SSSG : I'd say so, yes.
LS : Are you quite particular ?
SSSG : Very.
LS : Would you say that you're a gay man trapped in a woman's body ?
SSSG : [thinks for a moment] You know... I probably would.
LS : What star sign are you ? And who do you live with ?
SSSG : I live with my ex-boyfriend. And I'm a Virgo.
LS : I see... So would you say that you're the dominant party within your living arrangement ?
SSSG : Yes. Are you psychologically profiling me ?
LS (who has a problem with lying) : Yes, I am.
Smiley Surf-Shop Gal looks uncomfortable...

You see the problem here ? I should be pursuing conversation, not interrogating the poor girl. We didn't get it on. No surprises there.

...today. All are related, in some way or another, to the new object of my affection. I don't know what to call her on this blog yet (I might leave this one to Gamba); so for the course of this entry I'm gonna call her Nooma. So, in chronological order :

1. I had my palm read a few months ago by a friend. I don't really believe in this kind of thing, but it was a good reading, so I'd like it to be true. She told me that I was going to have three children, with two different mothers. This made me very excited, as this means that - if true - I will have sex at least three more times in my life. With two different people (if I used exclamation marks, then I'd use them here). Joy. I told Nooma this on Thursday. She pointed out that having three children didn't necessitate sex, as I might become a donor. On the strength of this argument, I have resolved to never make a trip to the bindu-bank in order to 'hand' over my man-grout.

2. Nooma was very drunk last night. In the course of showing me a wrestling move, she grabbed my ass. Afterwards, I pointed out that she had done this. To even things out, she told me that I could grab her ass, and she spun round 180 degrees. I looked at said ass, and almost fell of my chair. It is the perfect posterior. Tempted, I was. But I am a gentleman (read 'idiot'), so I politely declined.

3. Nooma is driving a float through a carnival today, which will be manned by people dressed as rabbits and cows. She invited me along, claiming that it would be "hilarity at its zenith". I couldn't go - I had to work. I really wish I'd been there. Boo.

That's it.

...an email from Nooma. She emailed me first thing this morning to let me know that she was "in a poody", and requested I cheer her up; "preferably [with] something that's amusing at someone else's expense". She then bid me a "funtastic day of delight".

I love getting emails from Nooma. They are always very jolly, even if she isn't. Recently we've been discussing our favourite sweary words and phrases. This is precisely the kind of thing I enjoy discussing, and evidently she does too. It could be perfect. But - of course - isn't.

I got excited when I had a message in my inbox ten minutes ago. I was hoping it would be her reply. It wasn't. It was from Tesco.com. Even though I have nothing against Tesco per se (in fact, their fruit and vegetables are *so* much better than the ones at the last place I used to shop), at the moment I think that they are cocks.

Nelson Mandela has not emailed me this morning. Which as just as well, as he'd be getting the same treatment. If he does wish to email me, he can wait until I've had Nooma's first. Otherwise there'll be trouble.

...afoot. I was working in a bar last night (I have a new job, by the way), and I got a text from Nooma asking if I fancied a sneaky pint. I told her that she could come and see me at work, as I wasn't too busy. She did, and brought along her man. They proceeded to prop up the bar.

Now, I have a problem. I quite like her man. Not in a homosexy way. Just that, although I hear reports of his having been a total tool in relationship terms, he is a smashing chap in social terms. We have bonded over mutual appreciation of tattoos, Ben Folds Five and The Smiths. So perhaps I should stop thinking about his girlfriend. But this is difficult, as she is obviously thrilled to bits that I have arrived in town, and this is not a little flattering. I seem to make her very giggly and excited, and I got the distinct impression that I was being stared at whilst working yesterday. And her being funny, bright and hot doesn't help either.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she makes everyone she meets feel special (not that kind of 'special'). But either way, it's probably time to look further afield. Boo.

...Gamba actually Lucy from Peanuts ?

I think we should be told.

...that I haven't mortally offended Smiley Surf-Shop Gal. This is very good news, as she's cute, buoyant and single. You may think that you've just misread that. You haven't. It does indeed say 'single'.

Anyway, I have concluded this as she was more than happy to introduce me to her mother at the bar yesterday evening (I was behind it, they were in front). And bring up the "gay man in a woman's body" thing for light-hearted debate. And laugh at my jokes. And look radiant. That last point wasn't related to my deduction, but I care not.

And another thing which I think is significant (although lovely BalancingAct may despair at my over-analysis) is this... Nooma invited me to a party on Saturday night, and I declined due to having to work on Sunday morning. At this point, though pleased that I have a new job, I paused for a moment and then said "work : it's a bit of a double-edged sword really, innit ?". Nooma found this very funny. Now, when Smiley Surf-Shop Gal came to the bar yesterday, she asked me how I was settling in, and I told her that it was just dandy. She then asked me if I didn't find work to be a "double-edged sword"; and proceeded to tell me that Nooma had told her about this interchange (they are best chums), and that it had made her (SSSG) laugh every day since whilst she was at work. It was just a throwaway comment, but seems to have delighted them both. I conclude from this that nothing much ever happens down here, and that they both love me. One of these conclusions is likely to be truer than the other, mind.

...find the same kind of things funny. I told her and a friend this story (it is true) :

A girl and a guy are having sex. The guy asks the girl if it's ok if he pretends to be Bruce Willis. The girl thinks 'well, that's slightly odd', but agrees to his request. There is no discernable difference in any of his actions. Except, presumably, inside his head - where he's thinking 'I'm Bruce Willis... I'm Bruce Willis...'

The friend doesn't see why this is amusing. Nooma laughs uncontrollably for about a minute.

She is going to see Simon and Garfunkel in Hyde Park this weekend. She thinks that she will be the youngest person there. And if she finds anyone younger, she will hit them on the back of the head and kill them, to ensure she remains the youngest. And also anyone she meets called Bob; so that, if anyone asks, she can say that she spent her evening "Bob-slaying".

She is brill. I'm not sure how Smiley Surf-Shop Gal can compete.

...going swimmingly in my relationship with Nooma. We hang out with each other as much as possible, and email and text each other during the day on most days. I've met the parents and her dogs. And I get on quite well with her boyfriend. Gah. He even popped in to see me at work. During chit-chat, he asked what I'd done the evening before. Amongst other things, I told him that I'd been round at his girlfriend's until two in the morning. Although nothing happened, I still felt rather guilty; and this may have betrayed me, as I could feel my face starting to flush. I hope he didn't notice.

On the following evening, I had a choice of hanging out with Nooma in one pub, or with Smiley Surf-Shop Gal in another. I chose Nooma. Which is foolish, as I should be making an effort to get to know SSSG better, being as she is the more viable option. But...

Nooma works in a petting zoo. This is a section of an email she wrote to me on Saturday :

She is brillness itself, as is illustrated above. She is racing ahead. I need to give SSSG a chance to catch up. Although the real tragedy is that I will actually never get together with either of them.

...Nooma's graduation yesterday. Did her man go along to it with her ? He did not.

So what did he do with his day ? Well, he didn't have work. I know this, as he came into the bar in which I work, and told me that he was a man of leisure.

He went back to the bar later, after I'd knocked off, to drink with One Of My Spies. He decided that one of the barmaids looked like she'd be filthy between the sheets, and proceeded to flirt with her a lot. His tactic was to smile at her, and when she'd come over to serve him, he would tell her that he didn't actually want a drink - just to smile at her. Apparently, when Nooma showed up at the end of the evening, this display desisted.

Considering that this is fairly far from the worst thing a guy has ever done to a girl, why am I bothered ?

...asked to learn to juggle for the purposes of my job. I think the owner of the bar wishes to transform me into Tom Cruise. I hope someone knows first aid.

...that I won't...

Actually, what I was about to promise was balls.

What I *really* promise is that I will always be myself. I try my best not to be - but I am.

Which is why I Will Never Find Love™.

And - in all fairness - wot would be interesting about LemonSquash™ if he did ?