The last week I've had the wife of an old school friend staying with me which has been lots of fun, especially as DrH has been in Boston since Saturday. Last night was her final night here and we took advantage of that to try on some Margaritas for size. They definately fitted well and I think the cut makes me look slimmer.
At about 3.30am we wandered into a bar somewhere in Mitte and ended up on the dance floor where I made the stupid mistake of talking to someone. Turned out to be a British guy who's entire conversation skills were taken up with the line "But who are you really?"
Seriously dude, you're thirty, not twenty. Congrats on getting bored with drinking and fucking your way around London and deciding to come here to do it instead. You sounded just SO world-wise and SO world-weary and that whole 'I'm cool and deep and mysterious with this one pick-up line I worked out at Uni which just makes me sound SO intellectual' thing is just SO über-cool y'know.
It's been a long time since I actively used this word to describe someone and fully meant it, but last night pulled it back into my active vocabulary.
WHAT. A. WANKER.
Thankfully there were Margaritas and old school friend's wives to keep me company instead.