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Thursday 22 December 2011

WHO SAYS THAT ROMANCE IS DEAD?

Sushi bar, lunchtime.  Pile of teriyaki chicken steaming before ridiculously hot girl A wearing effortlessly stylish and chic lawerly attire.  (My blog, my rules people: I will reinterpret facts as and when necessary.  though I will admit that I considered retiring this SUPER (in)EXPENSIVE THEREFORE KLASSY Next dress last time I wore it on the basis that the lining is holy)

A: [answers phone, looking longingly at pile of soy-based treats]
P: Hello. 
A: Are you telepathic?
P: What?
A: Telepathic? Are you this thing? How do you always know to call exactly when my lunch is hottest and most appetizing?
P: I'm thinking of your waistline.  Anyway, I'm in Oxford Street and it's all kinds of godawful and I'm about to punch someone.  Did you get my Christmas present yet?
A: Part of it.  Why? [said knowingly]
P: Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, I went to La Senza and they don't have your size, what can I say, you're chest blessed, butanywaydon'tgettherestofmypresentlet'snotbotherthisyear.
A: So, you got nothing right?
P: Nothing but love. 


[in the interests of full disclosure, he is generally very good with presents and I do love to have ammunition in the ongoing battle of who's the boss so not all is lost.  HOWEVER.  hymph.]

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