What Shall We Do Today?

A quick pet hate, picture the scene, it's the morning after and your lying in the afterglow of your coital activities, the sheets are crumpled, your hair is a bird nest and with any luck you've barely slept a wink. Your muscles ache, your toes are tingling and all you can smell is sex, sweat and spit. Then comes the dreaded question, "what do you want to do now?" Umm, Now? "What shall we do today" Today!?

I hate this question, normally you are at their place and unless you are super organised and/or physic you only have to wear what was torn off you a few hours ago (or a couple if it was a really good night) and therefore only have the one crumpled set of clothes from the night before. Your spent most of the night rutting like wild animals and the rest of it tangled in each others arms and now you want to spend the day together as well? Let’s start with the practical reasons, I do not have my things here, and even if I want you to believe that I am a low maintenance, easy-going girl, it still takes more than the travel toothbrush and tub of Vaseline I have in my purse to create the vision you picked up the night before.

"You can shower here" - Oh great, so you have stocked the high shine conditioner it takes to tame my hair have you? And I'm sure you don't mind me using your razor on my legs and arm pits, I'll just de-hair the areas I sweat most out of, then you can use it on your face, ok with you? You have already purchased make up remover, I'm sure, unless of course you like the "escaped panda from the zoo" look, do you? No of course you don't, and of course you haven't. Then you're hoping I have packed my own makeup to reapply, after I have had to scrub my face raw with a tea towel come facecloth that smells of mildew and has questionable stains. You will not complain one bit that I have to use your expensive, concentrated "a little is enough" post shave balm, liberally on my face an neck to salvage the damage done by the combination of no sleep and no makeup remover. I may even need to use a little on some toilet roll to remove the more stubborn mascara, I may have to use half the tube, but you won't mind will you? Not to mention all the rest; shower gel, assuming you have some, deodorant, yes I will smell like your brother making you more confused than a teenage boy, and yes I will have to turn my pants inside out, you are not the only ones who know this trick (assuming I can find them).

After all that I have to put on the clothes that I partied in last night, if I am lucky they are jeans and a top and they are clean. If I am unlucky (and more likely considering current situation) they are a revealing dress, which is the opposite of comfortable, high heels that can no way be camouflaged as day wear, and tights, which were probably laddered in the process. So there I am in my "so sexy the night before, so trashy the morning after" dress, bare white legs and ridiculously high heeled shoes, good for club wiggling, bad for day walking, and you want to go do something?

Practicalities aside, aren't you sick of me? You saw me all of last evening and more of me last night, let take today to reflect. I need some me time, don't you? Half the fun is going away and getting those delightful little flashbacks of the night before while you are soaking in the bath. You call your friends, get some laundry done, eat something unhealthy, take a nap, moisturise! If you miss me send me a text, we love that! Don't hold me hostage! Be a man and take me home, we can grab lunch the day after; it doesn't need to be now.

What shall we do today? Nothing. The questions should be what we shall do tomorrow or better yet, what shall we do next week?

Barmaids Flirt – It’s our job to!

It has been brought to my attention that men are labouring under some kind of delusion and I feel for the good of womankind they need to be snapped out of it.

I work in a pub on Saturday nights, I find it a useful little earner in that it keeps me busy and it's cash in hand work: it makes me feel less guilty about buying that £3 bean salad from EAT which is not even the size of my fist. So, I am a part-time barmaid, and to be clear I am YOUNG part-time barmaid. Less than 25 years old for God’s sake, and the gentleman in question was aware of this. The gentleman in question is 36 but he looks older. He is also a beard wearing, bitter drinking, national trust gardener who is rumoured to pick up road kill to take it home to cook and frankly, looks like he might. Now none of that has ever really mattered to me, why would it?

Now here comes the part to burst thousands of male bubbles... brace yourselves. Any good barmaid worth her taps knows how to flirt with the customers. Now listen closely, we flirt, smile and chat and you stay in the pub and have a good time, you buy more beer and everyone's happy. WE DO NOT FANCY YOU. We are paid to do this! Do you think we like Rod Stewart and Abba that much that we want to listen to it uninterrupted? Hell no! At best, bar work is tedious and repetitive, so chatting to people is the only entertainment we got going for us.

I knew Crusty Man took a shine to me by the time he leered at me; it's the sort of look that makes a girl stand up and tug her skirt down. So he turns up, he hands me a card, tells me the company he work for are having a party next week and if I want to go I should call him. I was so shocked I stammered out “thanks” and put the card on the side, and then he downed the rest of his pint and scampered off.

So to prevent any further confusion, I'm telling you now, the next time you think you have a chance with the barmaid, stand in front of the mirror, take a good long look at your self and ask yourself one question. Do I resemble her Dad?

Peaceful Protest?

Yesterday morning, I freely admit that I was a little disapproving if the "crusty bashing" that was being spouted in my office. The general consensus was that the protesters were lazy, lay about soap dodgers with nothing better to do. One person even commented that we should go down and do a recruitment drive as there would be plenty of people there who were unemployed, I believe the most common joke is that today will be less populated due to most of them picking up their giro.

To begin with I thought it was a little cruel to stereotype these people and think the worst of them. Sure most of them were a little hippy-ish but that's doesn't not meant that they aren't well mannered and educated people! If they choose to express themselves in a manner that includes nose rings, camouflages trousers and Mohawks, who are we to judge?

In the cold light of day, the morning after, I have changed my mind. Peaceful protest? PEACEFUL PROTEST!!! I don't think throwing a screen through the RBS window was particularly peaceful, or the fires they started around Bank station. They had to be driven back towards London Bridge at 2 in the morning, like the devil's minions being driven into the sea! All you needed was the police to carry swords instead of riot gear and you have a scene from Lord of the Rings. A man died for pity's sake, I know it was natural causes, but maybe the Paramedics could have been more help to him if they didn't have to contend with bottles being thrown at them.

What are the rest of the world going to think of us? We are supposed to be a nation of queues, crumpets and tea but we are showing ourselves recently to be more a people that enjoy riots. If it’s not hooligans being banned from football matches its peaceful protests turning into wars, as a country we appears to have “Little Island Syndrome”.

So yes this morning I have changed my opinion, lock all the Crusties up, give them a wash and a shave and make them work for a living. How about when they can honestly say that the Economic Crisis is affecting more than just the price of tobacco in their roll ups, they can have a say, until then they should keep their violent “protests” to themselves!