Wednesday, 16 January 2013

Mizmiz Man, The Taliban and My Impromptu Haircut

Mizmiz Man called me today. He called me from an unknown number which could have potentially been a phone box (clearly he still can't afford phone credit- grim on him.) I didn't pick up because I was in the middle of singing 'Five Little Speckled Frogs' to a five year old I teach, but he left me a message. Amazingly, the message did not say this:

Hi! It's Mizmiz Man here. Listen, I'm so sorry for not getting around to meeting up with you, I've actually been held hostage by the Taliban for the past two months and every time I arranged to meet you for a drink, it was because I thought I was going to be released, but at the last minute they changed their minds- those guys are so volatile! (Loads of fun, though.) Anyway, I've been released now and am back in Paris. If you're free tomorrow night, can I come and pick you up on my scooter? I don't want to sound presumptuous, but I've already bought a pink helmet for you to wear! I know a really nice restaurant we could go to, then we could go to the opera, I have a box there. By the way, the reason I always call you from phone boxes isn't because I'm too ghetto to top my phone up, but because it makes me feel like we are in the film Amélie. Let me know about tomorrow, can't wait to see you!

No, amazingly, it was more along the lines of this:

Salut, c'est Mizmiz Man, de Le Mizmiz. Bleurghbleurghdebleurgh. Ben... fin... Bleurghbleughdebleurgh. Fin... Ben... Ben... Fin... Appelle moi. Bisous.

Obviously I am going to ignore him. It is painfully obvious that he arranges drinks with loads of girls so that he has options in case the one he really wants to meet up with bails on him. Prick.

He does have a sexy voice, though...

No, stop it.

I actually had many, many things I wanted to tell you about the weekend but now I'm not really sure where to start.

Oh my God, Laura has just put the photos up from NYE, I'm going to see if there are any of Olivia's cousin cutting my hair off...

I've managed to crop my drunken face out of every photo. I'm not really sure why you need to see proof that I am in fact as idiotic as I claim to be, but here you go- here are the photos of my impromptu haircut that  resulted from an arguement that nobody can remember the root of:

The point is...


I think last weekend deserves a post all to itself, so I'll leave it there for now.

Shit. Just seen about two seconds ago that an Islamist terrorist group has taken some hostages in Algeria. So... don't anybody take offense at my imaginary voicemail from Mizmiz Man saying that he has been taken hostage by the Taliban, ok? I can't always take the real world into account when CHATTING SHIT.

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