Shirt Off Your Back

What a busy weekend! I hadn’t a minute to do anything mundane like laundry or food shopping because I was too busy out enjoying myself! After a late Thursday night, Friday night had been pencilled in for quite some time – one of the Managers in HQ had organised a bit of a football themed night. He got hold of a copy of the [in]famous Ireland V England game from Euro ‘88 and what with spots prizes etc, it was being billed as a bit of an Evint!

The place was packed! Packed! As when he showed the 1990 World Cup Ireland V Romania game last August, people arrived in retro jerseys with their voices all warmed up for a bit of a chant. Now, there’s no need to relay what happened in that game, except that barely 10 minutes in there was a cheer that was most likely heard in Lansdowne Road itself!
So, let’s move on to the spot prizes. Where it really gets interesting! Tickets were handed out, free and for gratis as it’s all a bit of craic and sure the drinks companies always cough up a few freebies. First ticket out was mine! A bottle of Jameson, woo hoo! Fourth ticket out belonged to the guy-who’s-making-me-smile and he became the proud owner of a bottle of Chilean Red.
Then the serious stuff – the draw for the signed football shirts! Now, I was either in the ladies or outside having a lovely fag when the tickets were being sold – a fiver each, all of the money going to Cancer Research, good cause, etc – as when I returned, there were two tickets on the ledge beside our drinks, the guy being the purchaser. The first shirt was a goalie’s one, signed by Packie Bonner and wasn’t one young fella sitting by the window delighted when his number was pulled out! I was then asked to draw the ticket for the outfield Ireland jersey, signed by the current team – nice prize, eh? So, I dug deep, had my fingers on a few different tickets, chose one, handed it to the barman and walked back towards my drink.
The number was called out and I was filled with this feeling of ‘OMG! That sounds familiar.. that number sounds very familiar’. Sure enough, I’d pulled out, by total chance, one of our tickets! Oh the shame! I insisted that the guy collect the shirt and I squeezed myself into the nearest corner.
Between the bottles and the shirt, we’d cleaned up! We were both delighted! He handed me the shirt for safe keeping and I promptly shoved it into my bag.
We decided to celebrate in HQ 2 and so off we went. I walked up to one of the Managers I know and asked to see the Champagne Cocktail menu. This was greeted with a sense of shock by the guy and a smile by the Manager. ‘Eh.. Glitter? Where are ye going ordering Champagne Cocktails?’. My reply was simple – ‘Where’s the signed shirt?’. Then he copped on – ‘Ah no! Ah shite! Right! What cocktail do you want? Go on then’. Several Mimosas later I was still reminding him that posession was nine tenths of the law.. hehe… Oh, I was having great fun!
Now, I’m not really sure how it happened or what led up to it but basically, he said he’d pay for a weekend away if I gave him the shirt. Wha? Yeah, really. He even confirmed it when sober the next day, twice. Thing is, he really wanted the shirt and I was going to give it to him anyway! I jokingly, having waaay too much fun with this by now, kept the shirt in my bag and even took it home with me the next day. ‘Until the flight tickets are in my hand! Then we’ll do a swap!’. He even agreed to that. Woo hoo! Barcelona here I come!

Sex with an Ex. Out Damn Image, Out!

 

I was standing at the bar in HQ, bit of banter with the barman who knows my order. Then I turn, drink in hand and practically fall into and over the EX. Not the ‘big ex’, just the last ‘ex’. I clocked his smile and I smiled back while trying to ensure the glass stayed in my hand and remember if I still had any lipstick on. ‘How are you?’, I beamed. ‘How are YOU?’ asked him with the smile back. ‘I’m great [you’re only ever ‘great’ when an ex asks] Howareyou? [smile, I asked again]. So how is work I mean?’. After a brief exchange and with perhaps too much of a ‘breezy’ air à la Monica in ‘Friends’, I waltzed away wondering if he actually had more to say when we were going out.

 

Hours and several bourbons later, my mouth as dry as biscuit tin with nothing but a packet of Rich Tea for company, I tried to blink it away! Out! Out NOW! The vision before me was a shagalicious 70’s type bedroom with me and the ex getting hot and heavy to Number 47 of the Karma Sutra! OhMyGodandnowI’vejustwokenup. Well, I think I’ve woken up.. It’s dark. There’s no noise. Reaching where I don’t really want to reach, I conclude that it’s just me in my little bed. The light confirms it before I can exhale.

Bloody Nora! Eh, hello Subconscious – WHY did YOU want to have sex with the ex tonight? I certainly didn’t! I’M OVER HIM, REMEMBER? And for the record, it was me that wanted out of that particular dalliance, but that didn’t stop me being annoyed and surprised at him reverting back to being a 5-year old when we broke up.

Then I couldn’t get back to sleep. Tch! Why did you try to pull that one, Subconsious? I soo don’t want to get back with him! It was months ago. I waited until daylight before hitting Google – well, I don’t want to appear a complete loon, even to myself. And I found it somewhere that dreaming about sex with an ex means that you ARE actually over him. That’s good enough for me. NEXT!