Everyone picks on me D:

When I was living in London (and single), Poppy mentioned that getting a dog would be a great way to meet people and make friends.  Personally, I consider myself more of a cat person these days, purely for the reason that I wouldn't need to go outside, interact with people, and catch a contagious disease (such as idiocy).

Anyway, back to the dog thing; the other week Gareth came out with one of his standard "chicks dig" comments - this time, it was "chicks dig dogs - fact!" It sounds a lot more . . . what's the word . . . 'on-the-pulse' than "chicks dig buttons" or "chicks dig accessories", so I'll try and reason with this idea of dogs being the key to making friends.

My mum has a dog, Sukey; she is quite a big pooch (an Alsatian-Akita cross) and I get asked to walk her every so often.  With her being quite a large and fairly young hound, she eats quite a bit (I'm sure you can see where this is going!) Where I walk her, it's a fineable offence to not clean up after your dog . . . .

The last time I walked Sukey, she did what is often termed as a 'double-bagger'.

Now I will be the first to admit that I am both quite anti-social and far from a hit with the ladies, but I would hazard a guess that it is far more probable that you will likely make new acquaintences without holding a reinforced bag of a multitude of still-warm dog schmief.

Just me on this one?

As per most weekends, I escaped the daily grind by escaping to my weekend home on the Friday; Claire and Tim's flat.  However, unlike most weekends, I actually had plans other than just getting (a) fat, (b) drunk, and (c) sleepy on the sofa.  Yep, I was seeing a certain miss Menzies on the Saturday.  Melissa, who has been bullying me for a mention in my blog . . . why does everyone bully me?

The initial plan for Friday night was to stay in, have a few drinks and play some computer games, and I'd slink off (as I normally do) early on the Saturday morning.

Wrong!

What actually happened instead was that myself and Tim took part in some awesome games of ice hockey on NHL '11, and we recently have a rule that if your team concede a goal, you have to have a shot.  I was losing fairly spectacularly, so I (cue the ice hockey terminology) 'pulled the goalie' (and not like that, we didn't exchange numbers or anything) and replaced him with an extra outfield player. The end result?

Tim's Brampton Battalion 5-3 Michael's Team Kazahkstan.

Now, I would like to make excuses.  I'd like to say that I hadn't eaten anything that day (which is a lie, since I ate my own bowl of chips . . . and then demolished the half-bowl Claire left) but with a combination of five shots of apple sourz, having a few sociable drinks since about 15:30 that day and my general rubbish work/sleep pattern, I was fast asleep on the sofa by about 21:00.  With us all having a quiet night in though, I didn't think anyone would mind.

Wrong!

We ended up in Corporation 'til about 01:30.

Actually, nothing too eventful happened in Corporation this week (mainly because Gareth wasn't there to commit some obscure faux pas or other) . . . oh!  But I did run into Aaron again. 

Aaron is the chap who comes top of my 'to destroy' list.  When I do eventually take over the world, some people will need breaking down and re-educating.  With Aaron, however, I think I'll just break him down and consider it "job done".

Anyway, let's skip forward to Saturday.  I was perfectly sobre, just very tired.  I was woken up by a combination of Adam's foot planting itself in my cheek and Melissa texting me to see if I was awake . . . which I was (sort of, even though I've just contradicted myself and said her message asking if I was awake woke me up), brushed my teeth  - I was incredibly tempted just to leave my toothbrush in Claire and Tim's toothbrush holder since I virtually live there - got changed and headed on off.

We had a good ol' sit in the market place . . . and then decided to move to the other side of the market place where the moderate bit of sunlight and warmth was.  There we sat watching an unwell pigeon for quite a while . . . probably longer than most people sit watching a pigeon in all honesty, contemplated joining a protest that was happening twenty yards away for a rather unique date experience, and discussed our preferred superpowers.  Melissa picked teleportation, but with the ability to take other people on these teleportations through time, and mine was the ability to stop and rewind time (because I make an awful lot of bumbles, so it would be handy to have the whole Bernard's Watch thing . . . does anyone remember Bernard's Watch?  That was awesome!) She told me her friend had threatened to "turn me gay" if I ever hurt her (and I can see everyone thinking "well that won't be very hard; it's bad when at some point or other that both of my ex girlfriends, my mum and my sister have queried my sexual preference before!) which is one of the more unusual threats I've ever received.  Not that I could hurt Melissa after she regailed me in how she destroyed her ex . . . I'm a little bit terrified in all honesty, but we have already established that she's the man so s'all good really.

I won't go into too much detail, but we had a really good time together. In fact, such a good time that I thought I'd put up a nice Facebook status about it.  Unfortunately, doing this with a room full of friends is a bad idea, it seems. 

"Eugh my God!" muttered Adam under his breath in his usual tone and eying me disapprovingly.
"Wut?" queried Claire.
"Queero's status" came his reply.

Instantly, everyone had their phones out, and I got a notification saying "Adam Keelan Turner commented on your status"

And 5 'likes' as well?

So that was everyone I was in the room with, Gareth (who was noticeably absent) and me (what? I hate being left out!) and this all happened in the space of about 2 minutes; it was almost impressive . . . almost.

I think I'm just about all rambled out really . . . . oh!  No, I forgot to mention that I managed to skittle a rather ugly grubby-looking toddler in a shopping centre. But other than that I am pretty much done until next time.