Indre Lecia folder sig ud.

Nå. Men så var jeg jo inviteret til fødselsdagsfest i lørdags. Timingen var mellemgod da jeg skulle på en længe udsat barselsvisit søndag. Og dén visit kunne ikke udsættes mere, for ellers ville barnet nå at lære at gå før jeg kom afsted. 

Så jeg drog til fest lørdag med alle intentioner om at skulle tidligt hjem, hvad jeg også havde lovet mine forældre der var hyret som chauffører.

Well...

Linda skrev for del år siden et par notes-to-self, som bl.a. omfattede følgende:

* Skal have investeret i diktafon. Alt, hvad jeg føler akut behov for at sige, indtales på denne. Hvis det stadig er en god idé dagen efter, er der grønt lys.

* Skal have investeret i lommeudgave af elektronisk væg-øre. Tjekkes en gang i timen, og når det lyser rødt, så fletter jeg næbbet eller går hjem.

Det siger sig selv at ingen af delene rigtig blev efterlevet, men jeg magtede dog lige akkurat at undlade at sende fulde-sms'er.

Først drak jeg en flaske vin + lidt til, senere var der en i selskabet der begav sig ud i at lave mojitos (aftenens citat: "jeg kan godt have en til. Ja, allerede"). Så blev jeg grebet af en overbevisning om, at jeg både var underholdende og uimodståelig. Vil heller ikke udelukke at jeg på et tidspunkt også troede at jeg så godt ud og kunne synge; gu'sketakoglov var det ikke rigtig et selskab der sådan lagde op til fællessang.

Til min store fryd bestod selskabet nemlig af en 15-17 mænd (primært gamle skolekammerater), en underholdende pige, og så mig.  Det var ikke ringe endda.  Jeg kunne med fødderne på sikker grund glippe forførende med de i dagens anledning mascara-inficerede øjenvipper uden at risikere at nogen tog mig på ordet (eller hvad værre er - på låret). Det passer mig så glimrende; jeg vil jo gerne kaste varme blikke henover bordet men er faktisk ikke leveringsdygtig interesseret i mere end dét.

Således havde jeg følgende uhyre åndrige ordveksling med en af de få festdeltagere, jeg ikke kendte fra før:

"Sig mig, du lægger jo an på mig?!!"

"Ja!" (han får 10 point for ligefremhed)

...

"Nå. Men det kommer altså ikke til at virke"

Mindes vagt, at da han tog hjem, gav jeg ham et smækkys og sagde "men godt forsøgt ellers".

Er nogen søde at slå mig med en skovl??

Anyways. På et tidspunkt begyndte solen at belave sig på at stå op, og på vej hjem i bilen (min mors ord da jeg satte mig ind: "hold kæft hvor du stinker") gik jeg i panik de første tyve gange over hvor utrolig få timer der var til jeg skulle op og ud og være præsentabel.  Verdens største omgang tømmermænd lå utvivlsomt i vente ved søndagens barselsvisit, og man vil jo nødig skade det yndige barn ved at dunste alkoholtåger ned i hovedet på det.

...

Og så vågnede jeg 4 minutter i 9. Helt af mig selv. Helt vågen. Helt u-svimmel. Helt sikkert ude af stand til at køre bil, men det skulle jeg heldigvis heller ikke.

Om jeg begriber det - mig, den største svagdrikker af alle.  Barselsvisit blev gennemført i fin stil, efterfulgt af en times togrejse i vågen tilstand, efterfulgt af besøg hos veninde hvor jeg også holdt mig vågen uden de store problemer, helt til jeg blev lagt i seng klokken 22.

10 mod 1 på at næste gang jeg overmodigt drikker ét glas vin, går jeg i dørken med et brag.

PS - bør jeg sige undskyld til ham fyren? Eller tror I han har fortrængt det?

blurry selfie

@ N ~ I was at a party this weekend. A birthday party. A really good party. I got hammered.  Boy oh boy oh boy.

It was supposed to be a fun but early night - I had a commitment mid-morning Sunday to go and visit a friend who had a baby a few months ago. It had been postponed a couple of times already so cancelling was not an option. Ergo, I told my mum and dad - who had kindly offered to come and pick me up after the party - to expect a call around maybe 1.30AM.

Yeah, right.

First, I downed a bottle of wine at dinner. Then someone started making mojitos and, I mean, those things are basically SO healthy for you - there's mint and lime and all sorts of good things in them - so I was the lady who kept saying "I could do with one more. Yes, already", and inevitably I very soon became convinced that not only was I irresistible; I was also incredibly funny and entertaining.

Yeah, right.

It is also possible that at one point, I actually thought I could sing. Fortunately, it wasn't a sing-along sort of party: It was me, one other girl, and 15-17 men (most of whom I went to university with). Not much singing at that kind of party. Thank goodness for small blessings.  

So mostly I just talked and talked and talkedandtalked (- apologies to my surroundings), tried to dictate the play list (apologies again), and batted my eyelashes at whoever happened to be sitting across the table from me because trust me, these guys are fairly safe to bat eyelashes at.

There was only a couple of people that I didn't already know. One of them did seem to want to get to know me a little better, so we had the following exchange (apologies, again...):

Me: "You're hitting on me, aren't you?!!"
Him: "Yes!"  (I have to give him points for the straight answer)
Me: ".... Well. It's not going to work."

What a subtle way of getting the "sorry, not interested" message across. 

When he left the party, I gave him a quick smack of a kiss and said, "but nice try".

Someone hit me with a shovel, please?

...at one point it was getting dangerously close to sunrise, so I reluctantly went home (my mom's words as I got into the car: "gosh, you reek"). Almost had a panic attack when I realised that in less than 5 hours I had to get up, go out, and be presentable. Went to bed convinced that the mother of all hangovers awaited me.

-And woke up, by myself, at 4 minutes to 9. Completely nausea-free, able to walk in a straight line, and not even particularly tired. What gives???  So I went and admired the baby, then went to another friend's house and didn't even have any particular problems staying awake until bed time.  I think maybe all the cells in my body may have re-generated in just a couple of hours. It's the only logical explanation I can think of.

And I'm sure that the next time I take so much as a sip of wine, it will hit me like a ton of bricks.

PS - do you think I should apologise to the guy, or can we safely assume he has blocked me from memory forgotten all about it?

Close encounters

Klokken er ikke engang 8, og jeg har indtil videre præsteret

1- at gå direkte ind i en mands mås, fordi han uden varsel bukkede sig ned på toppen af trappen for at binde sine snørebånd. 

2- at daske en mand i skridtet, fordi jeg kom til at svinge lidt for kækt med armen da jeg steg ud af toget. 

Vi byder velkommen til en efter alt at dømme ganske interessant tirsdag...

@N ~ not even 8AM yet and so far I've managed to

1- walk straight into a strangers bum because he stopped at the top of the stairs at the station and bent over to tie his shoe laces. 

2- hit another guy in the crotch when I exited the train. Not HIT-hit. More like a little nudge because apparently, my flailing arms are like heat-seeking missiles. 

I'll bet that made their day. And I'm wondering what kind of day *I* am going to have. An interesting one, probably. 

Happy Tuesday :-)

I søsterboblen

Når jeg er sammen med min søster spiser vi sushi. Og laver hyldeblomstsaft. Og sidder med små kyllinger i hænderne indtil de falder i søvn. 

Det er ikke værst. 

@N ~ am in the sister bubble. We've been making elderflower cordial and hanging out with tiny chicks. Feeling a day-old chick falling asleep in your hand beats - well, anything :-)

Feeding the addiction

Skal med toget. Kom til at gå forbi en boghandel mens jeg ventede. Ups. 

@N ~ what happens if I have 15 minutes to spare before the train leaves, and there's a book shop nearby. I'm extremely proud of my self control. 

True love is out there

Jeg har overspringshandlet i dag. På to-do-listen stod bl.a. tøjvask, støvsugning, og ukrudtslugning. Ingen af delene har jeg nået; til gengæld er jeg stolt over at kunne sætte flueben ved telefonsnak, kartoffelhypning, og Verdens Længste Middagslur (hej, Indre Erna).

Da jeg var nået igennem denne udmattende agenda var jeg lidt på facebook, lidt på twitter, og lidt på dating.dk hvor jeg jo stadig har en profil men fordi jeg er for nærig til at smide penge efter den, kan jeg ikke hverken skrive til folk eller se, hvem der "kigger" på mig. Men jeg kan vindues-shoppe, kan jeg. Og det gør jeg. Med noget blandede følelser, for det jeg ser mest, er enten mænd der er godt på vej til at ligne min far (og min far er en meget flot mand, men jo altså ikke ligefrem i min "målgruppe"), mænd der er i den modsatte grøft og ligner nogen jeg datede i mine teenage-år, og så sker der en sjælden gang det, at jeg ser en jeg kender i virkeligheden. Eller kender til i virkeligheden. For eksempel en (meget fjern) bekendts ægtemand. Av.

Men i dag så jeg en, som muligvis kunne friste mig til at slippe nogle af mine surt fornøjeligt optjente slanter. Læs, og bedøm selv ...

@ N ~ today is a public holiday here in Denmark.  I had a to-do list, of course, and have failed to tick off laundry, hoovering, and weeding. But the day is not at all wasted because I'm proud to say I managed to fit in an hour-long telephone conversation, earthing up my potatoes (which are starting to sprout, yay), and taking The Longest Nap Ever.

When I awoke from the latter I checked facebook, twitter, and then that dating site I used a couple of years ago (remember the November of 11 first dates). I still have a profile on there but it's dormant because I'm too tightfisted to pay the exorbitant membership fees. That means I can't write to anyone, and I can't see who has been looking at my profile. But I can window shop - and I do.

It's usually a dull experience. Most of them either look a bit like my dad or like they're trying to impersonate Bryan Adams' "18 till I die". A couple of them I actually know in real life. And the other day I saw someone who is, as far as I'm aware, married to a distant acquaintance of mine. Ouch.

But today, I came across this one. And if ever there was someone who could tempt me into renewing my membership, it just might be him. See for yourself:

>>>
SWM in dead-end job seeks dumpy neurotic for mutual psychological torture, tepid sex, and co-dependency. I enjoy drinking, smoking, pornography, and self-righteous indignation.

I have middling intelligence but try to appear smarter by affecting a world-weary air, memorising useless facts, and chuckling at my own mean-spirited, agenda-driven jokes.

I'm 37, but look 47 and feel 57. You are a whiny, bitter troll with a misplaced sense of entitlement and unrealistic expectations. In time you will become coolly hostile when I don't fulfill every unmet need you've ever had. Bonus points if you just finished screwing every boy in town and but now want to take it slow with me.

My perfect night would include getting hammered in a sleazy bar while you flirt with horny shrivelled old drunks, followed by an embarrassing screaming match. I would be open to an unsatisfying fling that leaves me filled with regret and dread but prefer a long-term, soul crushing descent into booze and pills. No friendships. I don't need any bloody friends.

Age unimportant, but I will condescend to women under 30 and rehash mother issues with women over 57.

Serious replies only, please.

P.S. If you laughed at least once reading this, you are my kind of girl.
<<<

(image from graphicsfairy.com)

Suppressing the Inner Child

Bedøm selv graden af modenhed: ser totalt ukendt, vildtfremmed menneske sidde på perron iført nøjagtig samme slags strømper som jeg har på i dag!!! Opbyde AL sin selvbeherskelse for ikke at styrte hen og råbe "friiieeeeend", mens man überexcited peger på egne strømper. I stedet spionagtigt fotografere den vildtfremmedes fødder.

Og lægge det på sin blog.

I klar forventning om snarlig inddragelse af såvel blogger-licens som pendlerkort.
(nå nej. jeg styrede mig jo. sådan da.)

KH Tine, 5 år

@N ~ train station this afternoon, on way home. Spot total stranger sitting on the platform. Notice he is wearing exact same kind of socks that I'm wearing today. Think to oneself "OMG!!! What are the odds!!!!"  Muster every available ounce of self control not to rush over and yell "friiieeend" at him while excitedly pointing at own socks. Instead take covert photo with iPhone.

Blog about it.

Leave to audience to judge level of maturity.

Expect blogging license and season ticket to be revoked.

The end.

Sincerely,
Tine - age 5

Things I did when I wasn't here

Happy Friday!!

I nicked this pic off a friend's facebook page. Totally without asking.

'S because she's doing the same thing as me, but in more stylish surroundings. Drinking red wine on a Friday night. I'm totally doing that too. Only difference is, I'm in my living room at home, out in the sticks and therefore not able to go anywhere, whereas she is in a fancy bar.  Oh yeah, and she is in the company of good friends whereas I'm in the company of -well, me.  But that's not bad company at all.

So, happy Friday. And have a lovely weekend y'all (I must be tipsy. Otherwise I would never write "y'all", fo sho. Also, I'd never write "fo sho")

Yeah. I'm definitely going to bed soon :-)