26 June, 2011

"Bollox!!" At least, that's what I SHOULD have said.

A couple of weeks back I was working with a friend of mine in Guinness.  We were doing some flower arrangement type things and Gill thought I'd be good to do it with her.  I went to her house early to get it all together, she made a fantastic lunch out of nothing and we had a fun day making flowers look pretty in Guinness.  The fact that the escalators only go UP and NOT DOWN wasn't initially a problem but . . . I had vertigo that week and . . . not great. Glass elevators are not pleasant.  Not pleasant at all.  My parallel parking, however, is fantastic when I have vertigo but I have no idea why.
A couple of days after that day I decided that myself and Himself should have a similar lunch and went to Superquinn to recreate it.  I was standing by the cheese counter when the following, er, conversation took place:

Him.  Harumph, pah, special offer, grumble, give out, moan.
Me.  What's wrong?
Him.  This cheese is meant to be on special offer.  But it's obviously not as it's 4 something for a tiny triangle.
Me.  It must be very nice then.
Him.  It is very nice.  Very nice indeed.  You wouldn't be able for it though.
Me.  Sorry?  Me not able for cheese???
Him.  Yes.  This cheese is very fattening and you, looong pause to look me up and down, are fat enough!
Me.  Nervous giggle, pat on the back for your man and exit stage left.  Whereupon I hid in cornflakes and cursed the fucker in and out of hell several times.

Bastard.  That was four weeks ago and I'm still pissed off that I'm too fat for fucking cheese.  Please?!

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