Friday night Daisy and I arrive in Manhattan by bus.
and flashed my tits outside Macy's.
We dump our stuff at Daisy's sister Annabelle's flat and go to a comedy club. Later Annabelle is pleased to get rid of us and goes home to pack for her flight to Uganda (which she has to catch in the morning). Daisy and I head to a bar and there follows a long period of drinking, but only a spoonful of debauchery.
When men try and talk to us, Daisy says, "You do know we're old and married, but if that doesn't bother you then we'd be happy to chat." Which is a bit embarassing, but in her defence, she is a bit tiddly. Still, we do get some interest. Some Irish guys chat us up but they end up being a bit up their own arses so we ditch them and move on to a Jesuit Priest called Jim, and his friend Jeff (a non-priest) who keeps telling me he loves my accent (how original). We had a good laugh though...
If you're reading this Jeff: I don't believe your story that you wore two condoms one on top of the other once when you scored with a particularly skanky bird. Or did you??
Top Tip: To pull birds wear a dog collar. My husband informs me that in Ireland priests' dog collars are known as 'pussy magnets'. And this Jesuit priest confirmed this. He told me that he has got loads of female attention since he became a priest. Women constantly want to seduce him, to see if they can crack his vow of chastity etc. Now, I'm not saying wear a dog collar every time you go out on the pull, just say you're studying to be a priest. Try it.
On the way home, Daisy barfs out of the window of the cab.
A top night all round.
I saw ...
that I looked like fuck in the mirror. Also, Daisy has bloodshot eyes. We eat eggs benedict and feel better. Then we walk about Manhattan for five hours giving it the finger (see crosswalk signal to get this 'joke').
In a Eureka! moment I realize that I have a filming facility on my camera and make Daisy film me:
I think you'll agree, A Star is Born!
Later we go and see a French film called Comedy of Power. Be warned. This is not a comedy. It is simply an excruciatingly boring tale of political corruption.
I conquered... some cats (more info later).
We go to a fabulous flea market:
Since we need to take two cats, Gabby and Smokey, on the bus to Baltimore with us (Daisy is looking after them while Annabelle is in Uganda), we go back to Annabelle's flat and search for them. I don't think they are very keen to spend three hours on a bus inside a carrier. We find Smokey trying to auto-asphixiate herself with a bra.
"Nice try," I say, putting her into the carrier. I get Gabby into the other carrier and we hop on the bus back to Baltimore, at which point, Gabby vomits inside the carrier.
Daisy: "Give me a section of the New York Times to clear up this vomit."
Me: "The Arts Section?"
Daisy: "God no, just give me the most boring section." I hand her the sports pages and she mops up the cat puke.
The rest of the bus trip passes without incident, although I reckon the cats are pretty sick of us (ha, ha) by now.
What a great weekend!
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