1. I spent the weekend with my special lady friend. On Saturday, we stumbled in late at night after a perfectly delightful dinner of dramatically overcooked pasta at my friend Odd’s, and a drink and a half in a nearby watering hole with the gays. Then, conjuring up a cab, she took me home and put me to bed in crisp cotton sheets, under the blanket of large, cuddly cats.
2. On Sunday morning when I opened my eyes to a new dawn, she was wearing navy blue tracksuit bottoms.
Baggy, oversized, navy tracksuit bottoms. Men’s. With zips. Then she pulled them up almost to her armpits.
3. Of course, she did it on purpose. Finding mirth in my horrified expression. Blogpeople, I believe I was being tested.
4. I think I might have passed when I immediately slipped into her 100% nylon Brazil football shirt. I drew the line at wearing it for breakfast, mostly because
I hope she isn’t holding that against me.
4 comments:
Heyyyyy, egyptian cotton if you please !
Admit it, tracksuit bottoms lend me a certain indefinable something .... You liked it really.
trackies....
hmmmm
But where did the traccy panys come from in the first place? I mean does she actually OWN them? Questions must be asked.
Ohh, you've taken me off your sidebar just like Greavsie did until I threatened him with legal action. I'm going to cry.
Sortof: mmmmpgh.
C'lam: I know, I know.
Caroline/Morphess- no, you're still there, look!
And yes, she actually OWNS those pants.
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