Built To Jiggle

Bleurgh. I’m hungover and two Bloody Marys haven’t really helped. I’m also dressed in borrowed clothes, in a pair of Danny’s jeans rolled up at the end and a vintage Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Everything else I own is stuffed in a plastic bag. I feel like a small child who got over-excited at a birthday party and had to be hosed down.

Danny’s little brother is here. Matt’s 15 and he’s a surprisingly bright shade of pink. Perhaps he hasn’t spent a lot of time in the same room as a lady with no bra on before. Either that or he’s very slowly having a fit and we’re all callously ignoring him. Danny’s already told me off for ‘jiggling’ as though I’m doing it deliberately to kill his brother but I can’t help it, I was built to jiggle.

I’ve spent all my money and I’m too lazy to walk to the cashpoint (which would, in any event, mean putting on the torture devices sold to me under the guise of shoes again). So instead I text D and beg him to come and fetch me.

L: pleeeeease i’m lying naked in a gutter

D: it’s where I always knew you’d end up

L: you don’t even care which gutter do you?

D: *sigh* which gutter?

L: outside a brothel in buenos aires

D: I know the one you mean

L: so will you come and get me?

D: oh lu, you could easily earn your bus fare from there

L: !!!*&@?

D: ok ok I’ll come and get you

While I’m waiting I’m snooping on Danny’s internet history and adding a couple of incriminating sites to his bookmarks. And if he’s not nice to me I’ll finish off his brother by giving him a big kiss when I leave.

Comments

[Mac]

See other post for comment... oops (must have been mesmerized by a Led Zep t-shirt wearing jiggler!
:0