The Ice Queen Melts

Well I did the gig. It was extremely scary. I've never seen a gig with such an angry crowd. Two acts couldn't actually tell any jokes because the crowd were talking back so much - one of them just did a dance while his time ticked away.

The MC had to tell the hecklers off, I mean a proper telling off. Why do people do that? I mean really? These weren't even funny hecklers, just sort of depressing.

Anyway. I did my set, the final act in fact. Which was a first, sort of accidentally becoming a headliner. It went okay, I'm probably being more critical on myself than I should be. I mean once ditched anything even remotely high-brow I got a very reasonable amount of laughs but it was a shame. There was no sparkle the sort you get - in my limited experience - when you are really getting on with the crowd.

It was recorded on a camera but I'm not sure I want a copy of that. Also doing the set were two very funny female comedians, one of whom I've met before. They are both extremely pretty, extremely funny and extremely nice and yet. Extremely single. It's baffling. The flatmate thinks this is due to most chaps being afraid of not being good enough for single girls. It sounds possible.

Oh and I spoke to The Ice Queen, she has a proper boyfriend. One who sent her flowers and took her out for a meal. I know the chap she used to think of him as just a friend but she has seen the light. Now she has a lovely boyfriend who thinks the world of her and that is very nice.

Uncomfortable silences about winkies, calf implants and flowers

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.

Flying shoes and relationships

This weekend was a strange limbo, I was supposed to be moving flat but that has been put on hold due to woes with the bank, so many woes.

I cleaned my room, read the serious papers over the weekend (A friend knows someone on them so I'm furiously trying to think of things to write about) and went to see a film with T.P.

Just before the film started I asked T.P. a hypothetical question.

"What would happen, hypthetically speaking if your shoe fell off and flew to the back of the cinema?"

Her expression after I asked this made me laugh more than the film.

It also made me think about what relationships are about, you know really about. People say things like companionship and the such. I think it's about having someone to mildly annoy and buy flowers.

On Sunday evening T.P. wanted to have a go on my laptop but I said she had to sing the Louch National Atheme before she could, she ended up having to sing it three times as she wasn't singing with much conviction the first time and the second time she wasn't standing to attention. Girls eh?