(no subject)
wow.
leaving drinks last night ended abruptly when i realised that my bag had been pinched literally from underneath me. most pissed off. unbelievably so, some fucking skanky bitch riffling through my stuff. nothing of any value except to me in there, as phone and keys were in my pocket, and the cash card is utterly dead, and cancellable, so more fool them, but my make up, some pretty jewellery, my housemate's handbag, my little black book that has my life in it, one of my favourite novels, email addresses, my perfect tweezers...so went out and got vey' vey' drunk on someone else's cash (nothing new there then)
and...
got into work this morning to receive a phone call from my gym; had i lost my bag? someone had found a bag in the street, found my gym membership card and had called them to let me know! how fucking ace is that? the lovely man at the gym offered them all freebie passes as a well-done and i scooted round there to pick it up, carting a thank-you tower of ferrero rocher, and they were so nice. there was four of them, in some kind of financial consulting agency thing, and they all came out to say, hurrah, here's your bag...or so i thought, but when i looked through it, i was most amused to think what image my handbag must have presented...there is a mock-up flyer for fetishman, a loyalty card for coffee, cake and kink cafe, a few 'business' cards from my more overtly kinky friends, my little make-up bag with the clinique and the johnnies, a trashy sci-fi novel; they must have wondered a little, and her comment, well, i had to look through it, you see, makes me think that the contents were ruminated over a tad. at least i hope so, and i hope they amused that little office a bit, because that was just the nicest thing. love the lovely people.
leaving drinks last night ended abruptly when i realised that my bag had been pinched literally from underneath me. most pissed off. unbelievably so, some fucking skanky bitch riffling through my stuff. nothing of any value except to me in there, as phone and keys were in my pocket, and the cash card is utterly dead, and cancellable, so more fool them, but my make up, some pretty jewellery, my housemate's handbag, my little black book that has my life in it, one of my favourite novels, email addresses, my perfect tweezers...so went out and got vey' vey' drunk on someone else's cash (nothing new there then)
and...
got into work this morning to receive a phone call from my gym; had i lost my bag? someone had found a bag in the street, found my gym membership card and had called them to let me know! how fucking ace is that? the lovely man at the gym offered them all freebie passes as a well-done and i scooted round there to pick it up, carting a thank-you tower of ferrero rocher, and they were so nice. there was four of them, in some kind of financial consulting agency thing, and they all came out to say, hurrah, here's your bag...or so i thought, but when i looked through it, i was most amused to think what image my handbag must have presented...there is a mock-up flyer for fetishman, a loyalty card for coffee, cake and kink cafe, a few 'business' cards from my more overtly kinky friends, my little make-up bag with the clinique and the johnnies, a trashy sci-fi novel; they must have wondered a little, and her comment, well, i had to look through it, you see, makes me think that the contents were ruminated over a tad. at least i hope so, and i hope they amused that little office a bit, because that was just the nicest thing. love the lovely people.