I arrived at Emma's at about 6:00 dans le truck de mon pere. I was surprised to see, as we drove into Emma's road, that there was Kris, Emma, and some huge, tall guy on a bike, trundling along the pavement. Yes, that's right. It was Tom Scott. No, I'm joking, really it was Brent. No, I'm sorry again, it was actually Mike, the little cutie. He had trekked thousands of miles (twenty minute bike ride) to rescue the damsel in distress from the jaws of the firey dragon (give Emma her birthday card and present). But he was still the knight-in-shining-armour (sickly smile), because it utterly made Emma's day. Well done, el Mikeo. And I'm glad to hear that I'm back on your love list.
Mike quickly departed, having learnt that the guests were soon to arrive (are we that scary?), and we slithered up to Emma's room to open my wonderful gift to her. Yeh, sorry Emma. Again. I can't help being a leetle bit of a spacktard. Sorry. Soz, yeh. ANYWAY. After the mass present orgy (I got her thousands of pounds worth of chocolate. I am a Good Friend.), lots more people arrived, Lois being one of them. Sorry, to you, Lois, I'm sorry that I lied about not being invited. I can't help it. I'll try to not lie to you in future. A bit. More present stripping, and giggling later, there are a few of us, resting our bottoms on Emma's floor. Cue conversations about Kris's new necklace (a.k.a. her beautiful hicky. Well done, Slicky.). Somehow - really, don't ask how, or why - Abi, Lois and I all ended up asking her to hickerise our arms. I am intrigued as to whether Kris would have really done it. Though, she did keep trying to suck my neck the whole evening. Peculiar, non? I think so. Luckily, the arrival of Lauren on crutches deterred her from her motives, and we flowed down the stairs into the lounge. LAUREN, BLESS YOUR HEART. YOU ARE SO AMAZING FOR NOT COMPLAINING AT ALL, EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE IN SO MUCH PAIN, AND I'M SORRY THAT I LAUGHED AT YOU. YOU ARE THE BRAVEST PERSON I KNOW. Yes, sorry for that, but I felt it had to be said. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeh, Lauren and Georgie arrived wearing a menagerie of hats, and Lauren (as previously mentioned) on stilts. I mean crutches. HAHAHA. Sorry. What happened next? Ohhh yes. As we all sat (or lay, in Lauren's case), Rozza darling and myself sneaked off for a bit of rampant batty sex up in Emma's room. Well, when I say rampant batty sex, what I actually mean is we rearranged her room... slightly. All photos inverted - and Emma speaks zee truth, Roxy, you are much fitter upside down - removed all her bed clothes and placed them in the bathroom (where else?), gave her bin and office chair to her brother, who was slightly surprised, and now thinks we have severe mental problems, put all her ornaments neatly on her bed, arranged a few fruit pastilles in the shape of an elephant, and lastly, but certainly not leastly, hung her rather skimpy - it has to be said - underwear on every corner in the room.
I'm not too sure what Emma made of our decorating skills. Sorry, baby (HAHAHAHA). So we then replaced ourselves back downstairs, where food was being prepared. My friends are angels. They cook me food all the time, do they know I'm so incompetent that I can't cook anything for myself? I think they must do. Well done, you lot. But, alas, my hyperness got the better of me, for when the food was placed on the table, it was instantly grabbed and distributed randomly under tables in the room. For an hilarious joke. Yeh... something like that, anyway. But our secret plan was soon foiled by Emma, who, as it turns out, is not blind. Eating commenced, but Emma needed the ketchup. We hid it. Sorry Emma. It was then that I remembered that Mcfly were going to be on Casualty. Eh? What? I don't know, they don't look much like nurses to me, but alright. Why am I doing this in so much detail? I am being very boring, and I still have at least twelve hours to recount. Hahahaha. Suckers. Anywaaaaaaaay. For some reason, at this juncture, Kris decided to hold some of my hair in her mouth. Why? Who knows? And to be honest, who really cares? It only got weird when she tried to insert it into her nasal cavity. KRISTINSKI, WHY ARE YOU SO ODD? YOU ARE A WEIRDO. Yes.
And then... the party poppers started. And the hooters, OH THE HOOTERS
I am a funny man.
Scary Movie 3. What a CLASS film. Well, actually, it is utter rubbish, but I guess that is the attraction. It was a cuddly moment; all squished onto that angular sofa thing. Awwwwwww. But then the drunken mob arrived. We gave up on watching the second film of the evening (uh, like I wanted to watch Confessions of a Teenage Slag Bucket, or whatever the hell it was), and watched Jerry Springer: The Opera instead, as Michael and Thomas informed us that we HAD to. I even got a threatening phone call from Mike. Argh. Scariness. Half of the group transcended to the kitchen, leaving us losers to watch blasphemy alone. THANKS, guys. Like I wanted to be left with Rozza, Steve, Kris, Abi and Lois. 'Cause I, like, HATE all of them. The random phone calls started then. For at least an hour, some spurius caller pranked us, hanging up as soon as we picked up. Tempers rose, anger fuelled conversations grew, until I stole the culprit's phone. Yes, Kat Ball, don't do it again. No, kidding. You can do it whenever you want, you funny walking lady. SHUT UP CASSIE. What I mean to say is: Roxy is a bad woman and should not be allowed to own a phone. Yes, Kris, it was the Rozza Monkey. Bad woman.
We all vacated the living room, in favour of the kitchen, full of those who didn't want us to be there. I walked in, took one look at them, and lay on the floor. Rozza walked in, and they all got up and left. It's 'cause you smell, Roxinda. But we musketeers minded not; we raided her store cupboard: The Larder of Wonders. Wheatabix is for rabbits, I have decided. Unless it is 3 parts sugar to one part Wheatabix. Then it is for horses. Shh, Cassie. But, alas, the Abe has to leave. Our crew was diminishing. We ate more food. It didn't add another member, but it sure made us feel better. And then it was Kris's turn to depart. We ran down the road, bare foot, as is customary, and waved her off as if she was embarking on a trip around the world.
When we returned, Steve and Lois joined the Dark Side. Rozza and I climbed into a sleeping bag together. Our collective arses are rather ginormous. We found this HILARIOUS, as you do. We writhed on the floor for a while, making lots of noise, and getting reproachful looks from the mature ones. We decided to quit whilst we were ahead, and refill our Wheatabix supplies. We crawled to the kitchen, and did a really cool twirly thing for a bit. And then decided that Wheatabix is not for us, but instead Frosties, for me (the pretty clever one), and toast for the ugly, fat one (Rozza). This was all jolly and well until we discovered that being joined by the buttocks is not really very helpful when one of you wants milk and the other wants jam. We unzipped, and carried on with our daily deeds. Emma's mother then entered, wearing a lemon coloured dressing gown, and looking a little tired. Oops. She thinks we are weird now. But eating breakfast at 1 am is much more fun that at 7 am, I think you will agree. The mother of Emma left, we finished our brekkie, and we sat on the floor and talked about God. Well, not God, as such, but I can't really remember what we talked about. Occasionally, one of the Dark Side would visit, give us little scared looks, and scuttle back to her home. We were the Social Outcasts.
Emma decided to join our ranks, at about 2 am. Mucho eating de la grapes happened, avec more giggling. Our lovely Steve clambered in, at about 3 am, quickly followed by Bob about half an hour later. Emma teasing ensued. Emma, you are such a victim. And so pleasing to tease. I shall continue to tease you mercilessly for a very long time. Sorry, and all, but I am afraid that those are the rules. It's not my fault if you will insist on poking your tongue into le gob of Oli Gill. And we warned you of the teasing you would receive. Do not blame us, you harlot, you painted woman, you. Much of the lying on people occurred, and Roxy, if you roll on my ribs again, I will stab you with a hair pin.
So we lay on the floor, laughing like a hundred hyenas in a football stadium until 7 am, whereon I made everyone move to the living room. Rozza shimmied back into my sachel de dormier. With great difficultly. Our arses must have grown during the 7 hour interval. I am impressed. We then procceded to sleep for two hours. I also have to say, Roxy, that you are nice to sleep on. And I apologise for the enormity of my arse. Blame my mum (what a good woman she is).
Slowly, everyone drifted off back to their respective houses. And that was the end of the birthday Emma sleepover. HAPPY BERTDAY, BIG BUM
1 comment:
Ahh, I thank you, I thank you. You may use it, as long as you have ginormous quotation marks (no that's not a euphemism)and tell everyone I wrote it with my own fair hand. *grins*.
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