Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Going to the Chapel for a Chippendale.
So my best friend is getting married, which aside from plunging me into an existential crisis whereby I was pulling a beer out of the fridge at 3.30 in the afternoon and wondering aloud over a family-sized bag of Doritos exactly what it is I am doing with my life besides frequently making a tit of myself and then writing about it on the internet, is- of course- fantastic.
"Really? You're getting married?!" I squealed down the phone. "THIS IS SO AMAZING!"
My friend made the appropriate noises of excitement as she demanded I be in the country for the nuptials.
"Of course I'll be in the country!" I told her. "I SO HAVE TO BE AROUND TO GET YOU A BIG-SCHLONGED STRIPPER AT THE HEN PARTY! This is great!" I exclaimed. I made a mental note to ask about the ring and the proposal next. Priorities and all.
I was met with a stoney, unimpressed silence. My friend said nothing. I sighed.
"We're just doing a spa weekend aren't we?" I said in a small voice. She said yes.
Personally I don't see the point even having a wedding now.
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