Last night was the school Christmas party and it was reeeeeeeeaaally nice to be escorted there by my boyfriend!!!! Oooo how sophisticated does that sound?
Instead of being lined up with the usual cattle market hopefuls eyeing up the (dubious) talent, I walked in on the arm of Daniel - well, not really on the arm - that wouldn't just be mature, that would be geriatric. I mean, it's one thing to link arms with your girlfriends, but not your bloke. Right?
So, anyway, the first slight problem was Janet Dinbner, snotting for Britain in the corner, surrounded by Arl and Seema and few other tissue-carriers.
Seema was all: `Madge! What did you tell Janet to do that for?'
Huh? I hadn't spoken to her (well not really) since she phoned me at the weekend to ask what to do about her cheating boyfriend. `Why is it always my fault?' I protested.
`Because you told her to impersonate a doormat and do whatever it took to keep her man!' And her point? `Now he's dumped her for being pathetically needy!'
`Er - correct me if I'm wrong here, but hasn't Janet been needy since Year 7? I mean, come on, I'm only as good as the material I have to work with. Anyway, she's better off without him.'
`Of course she is, but how much better would she feel if she'd been the dumper, and not the dumpee?'
Good point - I hadn't really seen it that way.
Anyway, I left them to their mopping up operations and went off to dance with Daniel. Oooooo, he is soooooo gorgeous when he dances. But then - disaster! As I'd been getting ready, I'd been a bit too enthusiastic with my tights and pushed my toe right through then end, so I'd had to wear a pair of hold-ups. (You can see where I'm going with this, can't you?)
There I was, getting all up close and personal with Daniel when there was a distinct slackening sensation round the top of my right leg. Uh oh! My hold-ups had decided not to hold up any longer.
I slid my hand down onto my thigh, like one of those cool R&B dancers, and tried to clamp it on to the elastic bit to hold it in place. But then the same thing started happening on my left leg. Aaaaaagh! So now I had both hands on my thighs - and was pracing around on the dance floor like some second rate gun-slinger ready to draw.
`I just need to go to the loo,' I shouted over the music to Daniel.
I thought if I could make it to the girls' toilets, at least I could dump the stupid hold ups and enjoy the rest of the party.
But, as I turned to walk away, Daniel said, `Oh I love this one. Just hang on till the end of this record.'
And he grabbed my hands to pull me back.
Oh no! There I was in the middle of the hall, with my hold ups wrinkled round my ankles like some sad Nora Batty look-alike with everyone laughing at me. How embarrassing is that?
I hate Daniel!
Instead of being lined up with the usual cattle market hopefuls eyeing up the (dubious) talent, I walked in on the arm of Daniel - well, not really on the arm - that wouldn't just be mature, that would be geriatric. I mean, it's one thing to link arms with your girlfriends, but not your bloke. Right?
So, anyway, the first slight problem was Janet Dinbner, snotting for Britain in the corner, surrounded by Arl and Seema and few other tissue-carriers.
Seema was all: `Madge! What did you tell Janet to do that for?'
Huh? I hadn't spoken to her (well not really) since she phoned me at the weekend to ask what to do about her cheating boyfriend. `Why is it always my fault?' I protested.
`Because you told her to impersonate a doormat and do whatever it took to keep her man!' And her point? `Now he's dumped her for being pathetically needy!'
`Er - correct me if I'm wrong here, but hasn't Janet been needy since Year 7? I mean, come on, I'm only as good as the material I have to work with. Anyway, she's better off without him.'
`Of course she is, but how much better would she feel if she'd been the dumper, and not the dumpee?'
Good point - I hadn't really seen it that way.
Anyway, I left them to their mopping up operations and went off to dance with Daniel. Oooooo, he is soooooo gorgeous when he dances. But then - disaster! As I'd been getting ready, I'd been a bit too enthusiastic with my tights and pushed my toe right through then end, so I'd had to wear a pair of hold-ups. (You can see where I'm going with this, can't you?)
There I was, getting all up close and personal with Daniel when there was a distinct slackening sensation round the top of my right leg. Uh oh! My hold-ups had decided not to hold up any longer.
I slid my hand down onto my thigh, like one of those cool R&B dancers, and tried to clamp it on to the elastic bit to hold it in place. But then the same thing started happening on my left leg. Aaaaaagh! So now I had both hands on my thighs - and was pracing around on the dance floor like some second rate gun-slinger ready to draw.
`I just need to go to the loo,' I shouted over the music to Daniel.
I thought if I could make it to the girls' toilets, at least I could dump the stupid hold ups and enjoy the rest of the party.
But, as I turned to walk away, Daniel said, `Oh I love this one. Just hang on till the end of this record.'
And he grabbed my hands to pull me back.
Oh no! There I was in the middle of the hall, with my hold ups wrinkled round my ankles like some sad Nora Batty look-alike with everyone laughing at me. How embarrassing is that?
I hate Daniel!
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