Saturday, 21 April 2012

Three. Trois. Tres.

Blind Melon said three is a magic number. I'm not so sure myself. Super sweet video though.

I have to use a PC at work
I use a Mac at home
Perhaps if I used a typewriter another time, then in fact three would be the magic number.

1. This time last week I was into my seventh hour of drinking. I was half way through a stretch that saw me on my very knees the next day. It was the Grand National, what's a lady to do? Act demure? Sophisticated? If you'll pardon the pun, nay, nay. Have you been to Aintree? The Daily Mail captured the overall ambience of it all remarkably well in 'and they're off'. Streaky tans, figures crying out for Spanx and a level of intoxication that the local high street is used to 12 hours later. A heady mix of people-watching, pink champagne and watching races on the screen in the drinks tent. Despite being 75 steps from the course. 9.30am - 1.30am quaffing. Jesus.

In total the day cost me £300. I should've watched the neigh-neighs.

Male at work got the two that are sadly no longer with us is the sweepstake. I hope he's not a regular gambler.

2. A dear friend of mine turned a quart-century. The shade of her foundation has gained the title of Native American, the racism is removed as she's Chinese. It's all very hoo-hah. A cake was bought, it blew my mind.

3. I had a colonic. My digestive system is a devil. It was excellent, but did little. I certainly couldn't complain about the level of professionalism and service I received. Based in the Northern Quarter, Manchester, Spa Satori. The therapist was, though a chatterbox, clued up & had the gift of putting one at ease in a rather embarrassing situation. Amusing. Highly recommended.

It's Record Store Day. The pooch and I are off to rummage.

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