Apparently I'm not allowed to think people are cute any more. And yes, I'm talking to you.

I love putting messages on my blog to see if people read it, haha!

Anyway, I'm feeling a bit fragile. There was some rather violent disco dancing last night, too much vodka and lots and lots of creepy men.

"Could you take our photo, girls?"
"Aye, sure!"

Yes, that old chestnut. It's almost as good as, "We're new to the area, where could you recommend to go onto after this?" Although, Elaine tends to send them to over-40s club nights, claiming it's the best night out in town.

Anyway. After much faffing about with a camera, one of them comes back over. The big fat one.

"Do you know why we asked you's to take our picture?"
"Oh, I have absolutely no idea. Please, do tell."
"Because you's two are the hottest lassies in here."
"Well, yes, we are."

That stumped him, let me tell you. He was expecting us to get all coy and flattered. But, no. We went for the big-headed prat option.

Works a treat, it really does.

It's rather reminiscent of:

"You're pretty cute..."
"What are you talking about? I'm hot stuff."

How to scare off boys, the Lindsay way! And I wonder why I'm single... Oh, yes, that's right. Because all men that do compliment me tend to be a bit mad-looking / fat / balding /under the age of 18 / smell of BO.

Says a lot about me really...

Posted: Sunday 13 April 2008 15:15:22