Falling, Pride, and shodding changing room lights.

Ok so something ridiculous just happened to me, and I need to tell someone, and here we are as we always are. Me, the keyboard, Adrian and the unfulfilled dream of mayonnaise. Thanks for joining on my self ridiculousness once again.

I'm sorry my last post was so freakin massive, but it was a scientology special after all, and I really do feel those pioneers deserve the extra stretchy word room. Engrams. What an age we live in. I promise though, this one is just a little postlet, a wee crunchy snack in anecdotal foil wrap. So you can get back to revision for Gods sake.

So. Yesterday evening I got drunk with my friend Kate. We went to her apartment, had some wine, got pretty tispy, and well, one thing let to the other and.. (ha. Search elsewhere for your filth you sick minded dogs) we ended up dancing like tangled giraffes to SpiceWorld-still freakin AMAZING by the way and watching You've Got Mail- still.. well.. bless Tom Hanks and his expressive forehead. Meg Ryan's upper face had a LOT of catching up to do.
This morning I woke up, feeling non too spritely, put on quite a lot of makeup to cover up the scientologiriffic deadness of my face and strode out into the morning (afternoon).

Down and down into the subway I went, trying wherever possible not to do too many unneccessary movements such as standing or walking quickly. I began the long underground transfer from one subway to another, and I noticed that there was a man, of about 40, I would say, walking next to me, and looking at me slightly strangely. Turning my head would be a ridiculous and horribly complicated affair in my current state, so I simply continued on in my path and thought to myself, if he thinks I have the gait of a disabled crab, so be it.

Suddenly, he walked over to me, holding a card, and began to speak. and ahahahahaha ohh what this man had to say.
It turned out that this man was a photographer/film director(/barrel monkey, I added silently to myself), he was 'doing an exhibition' ('opening the door to his mum's shed') on nudes. Nudes. And would like me to take his card, in case I was interested in modelling for him. I laughed. A lot. And he got a bit offended saying 'Look, I'm not some joke, I had a lawyer come in just the other day...' he trailed off. I, through my own snorts, assured him that I wasn't laughing at him, this was a laugher of, erm, flattery. I'm just really flattered. And when I'm flattered I laugh. A lot. He calmed down a bit, and started to tell me about the architecture of New York (I don't know why, I was hungoever and the concept of conversation was really really difficult to wrestle with). We got on the same subway, with him talking at me a lot about Brooklyn etc, and me doing smallish nods. Oh Lord, I thought, well, thats nice at least. What an amusing experience. And a small, evil, mostly 14year old part of me couldn't help thinking, wow, someone actually wants to look at me naked, and as ridiculous as the actual situation was, a girl can't help feeling rather gratified about that. Oh dear. If I'd known what was to come.

Halfway through this conversation, a man sitting on the opposite side of the subway randomly started to join in our conversation, hey its new york, everyone's crazy and that, and when photgrapher got off the subway, he came and plonked himself next to me. Jesus, I thought, I'm on bloody form today, obviously the scientologists are actually onto something, perhaps engrams are a pile of dung but the dead in the eyes look is a bloody killer! Eventually, we both got off, we shook hands, and I went on my merry way, feeling rather good about the morning's encounter.
And then.
Sigh.
Well.
I don't have a mirror in my room. In my apartment. It just doesn't have one. I dont really care about that, as there's a small mirror in the bathroom so I can put my contacts in without destroying my own face, and to be honest, what more do you need a mirror for? Oh a lot of things, it turns out. A lot of vital things.

As I was walking back from the subway to my apartment, I caught a reflection of myself in a window in a shop mirror. And, it turns out, that the dress I was wearing, bought only but a week ago, was, quite simply, completely see through. Invisible to the naked (ha) eye when wearing it, but oh so glaringly evident from about 3 feet away. Oh. My. God.

Suddenly, all that gratification didn't seem quite so gratifiying anymore. As I reversed through my memory of the morning, a lot of events made a lot more sense.
You're looking for girls to get naked for a stranger? You choose to look in the Subway? Not a lot of girls want to do that. They think to themselves, we're in a subway. This is not a place of Naked. But hey, look at this girl! She LOVES being naked! She's nakeding right now! look at her, just walking like a nakeder, slowly and solidly. Brilliant! Card her! Card her right now! God only knows how naked she'll be in an actual naked situation.
There's a really chatty girl on the subway, talking to a man about his naked project. She's quite clearly a nakeder. Why not grab your chance when he leaves? She bloody loves it! Shaking hands at the end of the conversation? Pull the other one love, we can all see what kind of girl you are.

Oh God. I'm going to have to burn it. Maybe throw myself on afterwards. Back to the church I go I think. God knows how much money its going to cost me to get rid of this little engram.