The dinner party was excellent. Most of the people there were single which is probably why the event bubbled away happily with out any talk of mortgages or improving kitchens. My friend was in extremely good form and spent most of the time whooshing in and out of the kitchen while she served food pausing only to tell a funny story the sort of which you can only really do if you have worked in that industry.
Because the room was full of giggling women who knew each other very well there was quite a long silly conversation about winky size and shape. The women found this deeply funny and the men all looked uncomfortable. We were quizzed if we had any preference when it came to lady-parts but we just decided to blush in unison which caused more laughter by the women and things went on.
It was an excellent party and it was if anything a shame to leave it but a chap must when he has a busy day ahead of him.
Yesterday I was having a conversation about plastic surgery - a friend is about to launch a magazine about it. And while I mocked the subject she was very serious about what she would get done. I should preface this with the fact that she is extremely good looking with a body of almost Barbie doll proportions.
Anyway, she wants to get calf implants, because her ones aren't currently shapely enough. I can't see anything wrong with them and to my, clearly untrained eye they seem very nice but she is not happy with them. At the party last night we talked about surgery a bit and all of the women had something bizarre they would change. I can't decide where I stand on self improvement. If there is something that you really don't like and you can get it changed, why not? But also when do you stop?
V-day is fast approaching and with it the difficult task of picking the right sort of flowers has now started. I am going to be getting a bunch delivered to two women I work for, which is fine but the amount of flowers is proving tricky. One of the women has given me an awful lot of work and the other one, only one bit. That is one piece so far, so should her flowers be less impressive than the other ones?
I know they should be different, and that the note should make little of the flowers being sent, but should there be a relationship between bouquet and commissions?
It's a minefield and one I hadn't expected. Perhaps I should just get them some calf implants instead, evidently that is what all stylish women really want.
7 comments:
Speaking as a woman (or at least I was the last time I looked), is it a good idea to send a girlie flowers on V-Day unless there's a romantic inclination there? I know I'd be EXTREMELY excited* if anyone sent me flowers on Thursday, but if it was for professional reasons, I'd make me feel really odd.
*Especially as I've reached my advanced age and never been sent flowers on Valentine's Day. The last man who sent me any was Dale Winton, so I'm clearly doing something wrong.
Okay. No sending of flowers then.
I'm impressed that you get flowers off chaps who don't even do girls.
That story involves me, Dale, Caroline Aherne and Nana Royle, with a swift mention of Cilla Black's TV cabinet. I'll tell you one day.
I'm very popular with men like that. I once got a text on V-Day from an homosexual daytime TV presenter with the words 'The gays love you'. 'That's not the problem...' I wittily riposted.
I hope you typed that while drinking a large glass of Brandy. Sat in a leather chair in front of a roaring wood fire.
Louche, I agree. No flowers if you're not proffering nookie. But an anonymous Valentine might do wonders for a commissioning editor's mood, perhaps...
Hey, if your plastic surgery mag mate needs anything on the boom in Colombian discount "work," bounce her my direction. Where dosh is involved, I can even put a positive, near-feminist spin on the TV show "Without Tits, There Is No Paradise".
(And you had to ask about sell-out journalism? C'est moi!)
Amanda - I will do. I'm having lunch with the chum next week so I'll have to find out how far things are going but passing on details won't be a problem at all.
Ta, Louche. I'm fascinated by Colombian plastic surgery to tell the truth. Who flies to a nation with insurgents in search of a $1k boob job?
Over a million desperate souls in 2005 alone, it emerges!
And suddenly I'm seeing an brilliant exit strategy for Iraq...
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