A date and some fruit
04/11/2007, 01:15

I went out on my date today and thought I would update the millions of people who commented on my last entry begging to know what happens.

As much as it may shock you all I was, in fact, a perfect gentleman.

Seriously.

But only because my cold escalated to heavy snottering/barking like a seal level overnight and I thought it wouldn’t really be very pleasant for poor C to have to be too near me in that state, heh.

She was very kind though, and held my hand and hugged me a few times during the day’s activities.

I was going to take her over to Chester for a nice meal but couldn’t really be bothered with that so instead I took her to the arcades where we played games and then watched a firework display.

C said it was very romantic.

I pretended that my ears were more stuffed up than they actually were so I wouldn’t have to acknowledge anything of the kind.

I am Smash, after all.

Romance? Pah!

Romance is for losers.

If I could have summoned one up I would have let forth a huge belch near C’s ear to dispel any romantic nonsense type ideas from her head but as I had only been drinking hot drinks rather than cold fizzy ones I just couldn’t manage it.

Even a fart would have sufficed, but as powerful as a Smashy Rumpety Trumpety Bottycough™ can be, I doubt even one of them could out-trumpet the sound of 30 gazillion screaming, popping rockets going off above our heads.

Not to mention the cockends who stand round going “ooh” and “aah” with every pop.

I bet you bought her some of those coloured sparklers though Smash, so you could stand and swirl them round like “couples” do!

No!

Well, yes actually.

Oh, alright. It was only because a dude selling them walked right past us and C looked longingly at me and then back at him. I have an excuse okay, those tablets I'm taking for my cold symptoms are the extra strong ones and I was a little stoned from them, I think.

Yeah, right.

Fuck off!

So, anyway, after that I took her to the pub for a bite to eat and a few drinks – I stuck to orange juice because I was driving and didn’t want to end up wrapped round a lamppost through being stoned AND drunk – and then I dropped C home.

Well, okay, that isn’t quite how it ended.

You didn’t, Smash…

Oh yeah I fuckin did!

C, bless her darling little cotton socks, when we were talking earlier, very stupidly asked the question: “So what is this mashing thing you talk about in work?”

I told her what it was, that really it was grown dudes – and sometimes babes – acting like kids in go karts in their cars.

She did look mildly shocked for a moment until I told her that the sensible among us do it in car parks or places where there are no people and no traffic, like late at night.

“Oh,” she said.

Naturally I took her to the car park and showed her a few little moves, which at first had her clutching onto the door handle in fear and then had her giggling and saying “Whoa!” in an excited tone.

It was only for five minutes though, a sort of Gas Mashin Lite.

But I think she liked it.

And I think Damo’s car needs some new tyres.

So there you go.

Smashy’s date.

I have to admit, she is gorgeously cute, and looked very good in jeans. As it was cold, she was wearing a big jumper and a scarf which covered up her bappage, but as I’ve seen her in work too I know that there are two ample melons resting snugly awaiting my arrival.

I naturally wore my usual rockerdude stuff, but I did opt for the plain black t-shirt, rather than my new “Eat Shit, You Motherfuckers!” t-shirt that Chad bought for me.

C did also text me to thank me for such a wonderful time, and that she hoped I would better soon as when she got home she really fancied a…

Fuck. So did I.

* * * * * * * * * *
On a totally unrelated note, I hear that poor overworked Dandy is still poor and overworked, so I wanted to post this to cheer her up and remind her of giggly funny times cos she rocks and is unfortunate enough to have me in her life waffling on all the time, heh: