So last night was fun!
I went the pub with GBman and The Singing Swede and made an utter idiot of myself!
And I'd also like to add that I was drinking Diet Coke, as I haven't been able to drink alcohol since the Bank Holiday fiasco.
So anyway, it was quiz night and I was late. On arriving I discovered the quiz master not only had a beard, he also had an Irish accent – neither good for lipreading, but I wasn't in the mood for explaining my hearing loss, so I just concentrated really hard, which of course meant staring at him.
And this of course freaked him out until he eventually piped up ‘I'm that goodlookjng aren't I?!’ cue big blushes from me. So then GBman piped up that I was deaf and needed to lipread, and then someone else piped up ‘And you're not good looking.’
Erm... and that someone was me!
And I have absolutely no idea what on earth possessed me to say that out loud – especially as it wasn't true.
I mean he's not my type but that's no reason to tell the poor bloke he's not good looking. And I can't even blame it on the alcohol.
So a good thing to do at this point would have been to shut right up. But no, I gabbled on, digging a pit so deep I'm sure I saw the lights of Sydney Harbour Bridge at the bottom.
I thought I would never live it down – until GBman tried his hand at breakdancing...
And after that, I felt much, much better!
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