...party. It was whiskerrific. There's nothing quite like carousing at a local hostelry with a handful of glamourous fillies and chaps shamelessly sporting fine bushy 'taches, what what.
We retired to The House Of Rock for the latter part of the evening. It was the last chance to wreck the place before throwing myself at the mercy of my (now ex) landlord. Smiley Surf Shop Gal wrote her name in Marmite on the kitchen ceiling. Using her nose. This was no mean feat, as she is by no means a tall girl. Then, later in the evening still, we fought. An inflated airbed was used to smother the opposition, and pile ons ensued. I battled on the same side as Nooma, which was a smart move, as she is not afraid of fighting dirty. At one point, she unpotted a couple of my plants, and dropped them clod-first onto her opponent's head. Übermess!
At four in the morning, Nooma felt compelled to sit on me and cuddle me a lot. This pleased me. Partly because her boyfriend hates my guts, and would have *hated* that this was happening. But mostly because she was warm and cosy. Mmmm.
I should leave more often.
Separately and unrelatedly, I am trying to find the right term of endearment. I may have asked this before, but please humour me. If you were a girl, and a boy was going to call you something that made you feel a bit wiggly, wot would you want to be called ?
