Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!

This posting was stemmed from a convo / debate I had over the weekend with a mate over girls’ nights out! This is a concept that one would imagine many males to understand and encourage or at the very least take advantage of! I mean guys, sere-i-us-ly the whole concept of a girls’ night out is not to spend time with the girls and play catch up (no matter what your girlfriend tells you this is just plain BULLSHIT!) Hell no, we do that via email when we should be working or meeting for a “girlie” movie aka massive bloody piss-up where we can trade war stories and our daily / weekly game of what’s happened to who and how the bitch deserved it as well as get the general hot goss / low down…

NEWSFLASH: Girls’ nights are specifically reserved for fucking debaucherious behaviour. Where semi-decent tarts turn into Tartess al Mundo! Case in point was my Friday night *satisfied sigh* My two fabulous tartess and I went from pure, innocent tarts from work just having some sushi and vino to fucking unbelievably drunk bastards! In the process of this transformation, we landed up going past Dad’s – was actually an attempt to siphen some mula of my pappa but in the end, as my dear old and oh so lovable dad can only do – he got us to drink more vino and I left with fuck all money too! This lead to a conversation, well really it was actually like an explanation, of the way our girls’ nights work with my Achilles Heel’s Father. The man was purely fucking fascinated by the thought that we were about to go out on the piss and wouldn’t be paying for any drinks! I mean elementary my dear Watson! This is an inherent gene that all females are born – ah yes, the natural ability to pick up me!

So Crombie explained everything ever so über nicely and basically the rules of engagement were laid down…

We are hot and therefore cannot be held responsible for men wanting to get us completely shit-faced so they can up their chances of scoring by like 0.01%... *evil grin*
This is a regular occurrence.
We have no obligation to these men – they buy us drinks at their own risk. Of course we are not bitches and hence the poor gullible bastards are given our “real names” – swear on The Bible!

Now I must give Crombie here a VERY special tank you chicken – she made sure I got some good punches in… The pained expression that crossed over my Achilles Heel’s Father’s face when he realized that yes, his son is a fucking moron for not seeing what is clearly in front of him and that I am out living la vida loca (man I use to have such a crush of Ricky Martin – BLIND!!) The best part is – his son knows it too, that he lost me – not the Ricky Martin thing!!!

But I digress… Basically Super-H, Crombie and I were a hit! The tequilas were flowing (which I still have a bone to pick with dear old Andy!) and so were the free drinks! Although Super-H did send a rather fucking blind text to a mate about his mate, Oh So Fine, telling him in no uncertain circumstances that I wanted to snog Oh So Fine senseless – too bad he was sick (for both of us that is)… So a big up to Super-H for being a complete tart and trying to hook this tart up with some action for the evening – appreciated schnoodle, as always!

So to the men we took complete advantage of over the weekend and with particular reference to Friday night (and yes Crombie this includes your little crossing the finishing line stint too…), I can only say: SORRY FOR YOU!