Thursday night is almost Friday

It's kind of weird going on a date that doesn't really feel like a date. I've been out with a guy a couple of times now, doing very non-datish stuff like shopping for haute couture clothing while hauling his green shopping bag with 1kg jar of capers and sundried tomatoes in oil around. That's pretty much it for the non-datish stuff I just realized, but we've met up for coffee (though I don't actually drink coffee) and then gone off to do other stuff, usually shopping. I know that he's ridiculously allergic to strawberries, so he obviously wouldn't share my crepes with berries de bois (the flourescent hospital lighting isn't very complimenting..) which we had after vietnamese dinner, and that he likes vodka more than wolf blass with his said vietnamese, but I still don't know his surname.

We have so much fun talking about ridiculous stuff like one of his friend's fake testicles and whether it is hung with synthetically manufactured or organically produced materials, or the retarded (ok, gastronomically challenged) guy at the icecream factory who thought that the ridiculously overpriced chicken stock / generic exotic fruit flavoured ice cream was to be labeled 'mango flavour' that we don't really talk about everyday stuff. Which is f'ing awesome if I may say, cause I've been on some dates here that have been pretty bad. The type where you find your mind wandering to ways of escaping like having an unexpected paroxysm of projectile vomiting. The annoying bit for me is that though I find him awesome, I'm not physically attracted to him; he's more best friend material. And I do mean the latter part. He's such a great guy, had only my mother maybe chainsmoked heavily a bit while I was pregnant or something, my genes maybe would have found him irresistible and we'd live happily ever after in la-la land and have beautiful, adopted babies.

But thanks to my mom's impeccable healthy diet and ergonomic posture, I fail. I'm such a wank sometimes. So now comes the dilemma, how do you tell someone that they're best friend material, and not shagadellic? All Saint's "Never Ever" 'You can tell me to my face or even on the phone. You can write it in a letter..' is probably not the way to go about it. That single only made it to no 4 in the states in 1998, even though it had the awesomely titled 'nice hat remix' as its second track. What a shame. And a clear indication it's not the more popular way of going about this. Great sunglasses though.

I went to the gym after handing my bike over to the hottest mechanic I've seen in the southern hemisphere so far; chisseled chin, bright smile, strong arms and both really friendly and helpful. I might have to have some more work done, or get some tips.. At the gym I did some rowing, hangups and stomach exercizes while trying to talk to the Accompagnist from choir. It's pretty hard to hold an intelligent conversation, mostly in barely apprehensible grunts and gutteral choking sounds, because your abs are working so hard that if you lose consentration your spine will snap like a babysister's barbie doll in a malevolent child's hands. Exactly, Barbie won't brake with a brittle Snap (well engineered, high quality rubber-plastic toy); she will endure a bit of rough love, but she won't really be the same ever again. You tube doesn't sport the uncensored version of Team America's sex scene, damnit. Still pretty good.

What else? Yes, toga yoga in five hours. Damnit, this has happened every night of the week. Like Tuesday night going to see the Hulk at the late show with Sunray stoned out and me having a butterscotch icecream for dinner, or last night going to Ginger (new favourite) on Brunswick having awesome coctails and flaming kakamura (no, You're a flaming kakamura). It's flambéed turkish cheese, and misspelled. Too busy having fun and drinking expensive alcohol to sleep. I'll die exhausted and worn from dragging my dialysis machine due to liver malfunction around - but hopefully happy.

I wonder if I have any readers what so ever out there. All the other blogs have vast amounts of soft porn to attract the hordes, but I guess social porn can be almost as addictive. Though not as eye pleasing. I usually just pick up the latest DNA to satisfy that.