Mahinda’s Little World

I wrote a long blog post yesterday, but my PC crashed and I lost the damn thing. Bugger.

So I suppose I’ll try again…

It’s already the 12th of December. Christmas has rather crept up on me this year, to be honest, and it doesn’t feel anywhere near as festive. It might just be hindsight, but last year felt a lot more special.

I suppose the Goonie thing was at its height, and I definitely had a bit more spare time…at the moment, I seem to be in transition between one group of friends (who have moved away, or may do in the near future) and another (as yet unspecified).

Take a look at my December 2005 posts - it’s scary just how recent it all seems!

The Works Do

Another year, another work Christmas bash. This year’s wasn’t quite as exciting as last year’s…fortunately! The FULL story of that night wasn’t written up then, and it’s not going to be written up now. I do try to be a gentleman sometimes, you know.

So, this year. Thanks to the ever-dwindling number of staff round here, we had a mere four tables in an Old Trafford* function suite, which was shared with several other companies. The most intriguing other firm was the table next to us - 10 or so women with the card saying that they were a plumbing firm. It turns out that they were an all-female firm of plumbers. They scare me.

* That’s the original one, not the football stadium.

The meal was nice (and plentiful), conversation was good. I did end up dancing with Ange, a workmate’s girlfriend - she wasn’t taking no for an answer - and (a bit later, I think) Jo, a workmate. At one point it was just Jo and I on the floor being silly to I Am The Resurrection. Oops.

Bizarrely enough, I spent quite a while talking to Ange about breasts. Specifically, the boy (at her school) who’d been the first to grab hers. The conversation didn’t come out of nowhere, fortunately - another workmate’s girlfriend had been to the same school and knew the same boy, who did it to everyone. Apparently, he’d taken her to the cinema, then out for a walk in the moonlight…it went pretty much like this:

Boy looks at curl of hair resting on Ange’s forehead.

Boy says "You’ve got lovely curls."

Boy reaches out and grabs a mammary.

Smooth.

At one point Ange grabbed my left breast - she didn’t even compliment my hair! Oh well, at least she reckons I’m pert. She may not remember any of this. Hopefully.

The most memorable bit of the night, however, was a conversation with B, one of my female workmates (not the same B as last year…whose name doesn’t even start with that letter):

B: "So Mahinda, you are married, yes?"

Me: "Er, no. Why’d you think that?"

B: "But you have a girlfriend?"

Me: "Nope. No girlfriend."

B: "Are you gay?"

Me: *choke*

Logical, I suppose - B was actually paying me a sort of compliment, in that she reckoned that I was too nice to be single. Such is my curse, unfortunately.

This sort of thing seems to happen with my workmates - a couple of Christmasses ago, I was drunkenly chatting to E, another workmate, who exclaimed loudly "Mahinda doesn’t have sex! Mahinda’s too nice to have sex!"

I’ve never let E forget the day she called me a eunuch.