Beatrice sends her apologies that she doesn't have time to blog lately. She's busy, you see. Too busy to even tell you what a fabulous weekend she had. I (her former roommie) know this because she has yet to tell me how her weekend was. My simple MSN'd question "how was Blades of Glory?" was met with silence - and then she went away. I'm left only with my suspicions - and speculations. And we all know speculating makes an ass out of you and me... But here goes.
Last week was uneventful, except for Friday night - when she attended her weekly Philately Group followed by her Anglophiles Anonymous meeting (which it should be known she only attends to find out where to meet British men).
As the meeting drew to a close, a fellow Anglophile revealed that she had recently gotten to know a British man with bad teeth, crazy hair and long, lanky legs which he consistently tripped over. Beatrice immediately inquired into his current whereabouts. This was simply too good to be true. And, it was possible, if he was also a 'football' player (or even a fanatic), Beatrice was pretty sure she'd explode like the Chicken Lady from Kids in the Hall.
It turned out he was a fellow hooligan (is that even what they call themselves?) and a British ex-pat. And he lived in her building. Bawk, bawk, bawk-AHOHAHOH!! says the Chicken Lady.
Beatrice then spent Saturday following him not-so covertly, "accidently" knocking on his door (pretending she was looking for a friends' apartment), bumping into him on the elevator (which she rode up and down for three hours waiting for him) and picking his pocket in the parking lot (a man's wallet can provide valuable insight into his inner workings).
This climaxed Saturday night, when, at the local English pub - after Beatrice's 5th Guiness - she finally uttered "hello" to the Hot British Guy (HBG) she had followed there.
He took one look at Beatrice and said...
"Don't I know you from somewhere?"
This was followed by a painfully long silence during which HBG searched his memory banks and Beatrice prayed he wouldn't remember any of the day's stalking 'incidents'.
He didn't.
The two then proceeded back to his apartment - where they shagged happily ever after.
The end.
1 comment:
Hahaha...
Molly, you just described EXACTLY how I envision meeting my future-PNB. Stalking and all!
But seriously... you know my weekend was lame if heading to a made-up Philately meeting was more interesting than what I actually did.
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