psg: an update

me: so yeah, like, if i need rescuing on a wednesday, it's all okay, because i'm here, and you're here and i can be sure that i'll be rescued. but what if i need rescuing and it's not a wednesday?
psg: ermm... well, you just need to make a bat signal and flash it in the sky. of course, it might not work if it's cloudy. and of course i don't actually have a batmobile, so i might just have to catch the tube.
me: yeah. that might not work so well. but i have a better idea. how about i just give you my number *writes number on a napkin* and you can like text me every 20 minutes. and i'll let you know if i need rescuing.
psg: oh yeah, that might work. *takes the napkin and puts it in his pocket*

i haven't heard from him... yet.

give me just a little bit more

at 2:20am, i receive a text message from dd: hi, it's dd, you know the one that sold you drugs* u up for some ass action he he he.

at 2:20am it is clearly a booty call, regardless of the content of the message. the next day i corner A1 about giving out my number, but he claims innocence. i consider dd's offer long and hard. specifically, i consider trying to upgrade from anal, to anal, oral and a nice dinner.

i abandon the idea, knowing it will only mess with my head. this week i found out that my mum has cancer and sadly i'm in need of some of the old-fashioned kind of loving. you know, the one with cuddles.

*i hasten to point out that he actually sold A1 drugs, not me.

from vsg to psg

the symmetry is impossible to miss. i've moved up in the world. up past the video store, that is. to the pizza store.

and might i say that it's not the first time that i've considered writing about psg. there have been other times. but i've never been sure if there's something in it or not. naturally, i've wanted there to be. but, some background:

there is a cool pizza place in angel that we go to every wednesday night. it was A1's idea originally, but i'm totally into it. he reckons it's the best pizza in all of london, and whilst i'm not in a position to agree with him, it's certainly pretty good pizza. there's something about looking forward to wednesday nights on the couch, drinking beer and eating pizza. there's almost always someone new to talk to there. plus they have scrabble. and a free juke box with david bowie. and cute bar staff. what's not to like?

but moving on to psg. we talk often on wednesday nights. him with his superhero powers (he has a batman belt) and me with my... well lack of super powers. last night as i walked out the door he told me i should let him know if i needed rescuing. ahem. i haven't had sex in a month. darling, i *definitely* need rescuing.

stay tuned for next wednesday night's exciting adventure.

it's been a month

it's my one month anniversary in london, and the milestone makes me realise that it's been that long since i've had sex. pathetic really and i'm starting to think that might have forgotten how.

last night i stayed over at a male friend's house. we've been catching up every weekend for the past few weeks: going out for drinks, having dinner, going to the market, etc. he's a lovely guy, and i quite like him, but i was slightly confused about where it was all going.

i'm no longer confused after last night. i suggested that we catch up for a movie on the couch wondering where it might lead. i stayed over. we slept in the same bed. nothing happened. nothing.

good thing an old friend is arriving in london soon =)

say no to drugs!

today i receive another im from A1:

A1: so, you haven't answered me yet?
me: huh?
A1: can i give your number to dd or not?
me: i thought i said i wanted to think about it?
A1: haven't you thought about it, now?
me: not conclusively
A1: hurry up
me: well if you're that desperate for an answer, i'm going to go with no. just to be on the moral high ground.

guess i'm not that desperate after all. well... not yet.

it's probably only unethical if i accept cocaine for services rendered, right?

last night, on the way home from pizza, A1 stops off at the drug dealer. i'm sure you are all fully aware of how rampant the drugs are here in london, so i doubt i'm giving away much by saying that he has a dealer.

we chat for a bit, and i drunkenly bemoan my lack of sex life. the dealer is italian, so naturally i ask him how to say "i fancy anal" in italian. being the perfect gentleman that all drug dealer's are, he teaches me the phrase. but then he thinks about it:

dd: but what if then the man you say it to really wants to have anal sex with you?
me: umm... well i'm hoping he will.
dd: really?
me: uh, yeah. why else would i learn to say it?

today, i get an im from A1: dd wants your phone number. can i give it?

much later, i am still thinking about whether i am desperate enough to have sex with a drug dealer.

the laundromat: take two

since i finished work early today, i thought i'd try my luck at the laundromat. again, i walk down with my bucket full of clothes. as i walk through the door, a man comes out to greet me:

him: i'm sorry, we're closed
me: what?!
him: we close early on a thursday
me: fuck. fuck fuck fuck.
him: unless you want to leave it with me for a service? it's only a couple of pounds extra*
me: uhh... yeah okay.i think for a bit but how do i know you won't sell my underwear?
him: ermm.... *pause whilst he realises that i am serious* i wouldn't do anything like that. is it that expensive?
me: yes!
him: no, i wouldn't.
me: okay, well make sure you don't. and it can't go in the dryer either.
him: it will be ready tomorrow. it'll be £6.10
me: thanks.

as i walk out, i check the opening hours on the door to make sure they don't close early tomorrow too.

*my flatmate is a liar. he told me it was 40p when i first moved in.

i'm busy on saturdays

i was told when i moved in that the washing machine was broken. that i would have to use the laundromat, but there was a really good one nearby that folded everything for you. i didn't worry about it too much at the time, because i was pretty desperate for a place to live.

but now, a week later when i need to do my washing, i am getting really pissed off. yesterday, after walking up and down the street multiple times trying to find the bloody laundromat, i realised that it was closed. tonight, when i got home from work, i went again to the laundromat. it is closed and closes at 7pm. wtf?! when am i supposed to do my washing?!

sure, i could have done it on saturday, but i didn't realise that saturdays were going to be such a window of opportunity for washing because my flatmate told me that the laundromat was open in the evening. i mean, 7pm?! that is not evening! that's late afternoon! jesus.

furthermore, if i *do* get to the laundromat, by some miracle, before 7pm, i will have to leave my washing there and pick it up the next day. i am convinced this means that some dirty old man is going to paw through my (fairly expensive) underwear. plus, i will have to go to the added effort of keeping a list of what underwear i give him, in case he tries to sell it.

i am very annoyed.

europe awaits!

now that i'm officially and actually in london, i've realised that the rest of europe is literally on my doorstep. and that being the case, i plan to visit every other european country that i can, whilst i'm here. of course, i do realise that it will necessitate the learning of many other languages, but i'm hoping to get away with one or two choice phrases. my initial thinking suggests: hi, my name is star and i like it up the arse.

A1 has generously taught me the phrase in polish (we're going next week to visit his father- i'm sure it will come in handy) and another friend of mine has been lovely enough to write it down in czech for me. but by my reckoning, i'm still short on a myriad of other languages- german, french, spanish, italian, latvian, russian, lithuanian, finnish, swedish, norwegian, etc. (and this is where you come in, dear reader!) so if you know another language and would be kind enough to give me a quick lesson, i'd be grateful. send your translations through by mail, facebook or twitter. if you could include the phonetic spelling, that would be fab (i wouldn't want someone to misunderstand me- that could lead to all types of awkwardness. cheers.)

yes, i see that "please corrupt me" sign you're holding. oh yes, i see it.

more bloggable, even, than the lighting in my bedroom, are my flatmates. (there is an albanian guy, sure, but he is a little boring.) way more interesting are the two teenage austrian sisters who have followed their dream of living and working in london. they share a room, a bed, and seem to share a life. they don't have boyfriends (when i asked them, they jokingly said they were waiting for twins.) they are, frankly, naive as fuck.

when A1 met them the first thing he said was: "so, star... going for the family double, eh?" and, well... what can i say? the boy knows me too well. watch this space. ahem.