3 Night Terrors

I was very well-behaved this weekend.

Not everyone was such a goody two-shoes though....

I should start by explaining that the Tower I live in is part hotel, part apartments. It's the Hilton at the bottom and then from floor 25 up to 47, it is us. The residents. Understandably, our floors and corridors also have the look of a hotel. Each one has white walls, black carpet and black doors. They all look the same.

Because of that, I can imagine, it could be an easy mistake to make, to get out on the wrong floor. You know if you were too busy thinking what you were going to have for your tea or something? Or you were drunk? Or you were sleep-walking?

Or all of the above.

Turns out that one girl had made this very mistake in the wee small hours of Sunday morning.

I can only assume that she must have been planning her dinners for the whole week. And probably lunches and breakfasts too. Because it sounds like her head really was elsewhere...

Not only did she get out on the wrong floor...but she went into the wrong apartment too...giving the occupier the fright of his life.

He rushed down to the concierges...

"A girl has got into bed with me and I don't know what to do!"

And as someone who dances on the other side of the ballroom, he wasn't kidding about this being a new experience for him.

I feel there are various lessons we could learn from this. There is the obvious, the one about always locking your door. But, I think the one I will take away from it, the main one, is that if you are going to make a little mistake like that, get your gaydar out first and plan ahead what apartment would be a good one to go into it.

Mind you, knowing my luck, I'd end up playing 'two in the bed, and the little one said...' with Mr Chilled Red!

6 Little Miss Crabbit Face

I'm Little Miss Crabbit Face today.

I'm fed up of the weather, my flatmate has broken my favourite Dirty Dancing mug and the worst thing of all, I was humiliated in the lift this morning.

Once upon a time the other month, I accepted an invitation from another Tower resident to go for a drink in his apartment. Don't worry about the stranger danger thing, we'd had a few 30 second lift-chats prior to this, so we were practically old friends. Plus, he told me he had a great set of binoculars and that chat up line always works on me!

A friend had also suggested that I might be a bit fussy with regards men and that I'm too quick to decide someone isn't my type. So, keen to show her that she was wrong and that I'm very open-minded, I accepted the drink date. Even though I was sure he wasn't my type...

He wasn't my type. Don't get me wrong, he was a nice guy, just not for me. And I don't just mean because he put the red wine in the fridge. We had a nice chat though and then I made my excuses and left (or rather I made his excuses and told him I'd have to go because he was up early the next day. For some reason it never works as well?!) And that was that. Until today.

I'd got in the lift. There were 3 workmen there. I said hi as all us Tower residents do (it's a friendly lift.) Then silence. Then one remarks how awkward he feels when no-one talks in the lift. Well, if he was feeling awkward then, who knows how he felt when the lift stopped and in gets... Mr Chilled Red. Mr Chilled Red who looks at me, says nothing and then turns to the workies and announces that I'm probably feeling pretty embarrassed because last time he saw me I blew him out (note that is blew him out..)

Mortified is not the word. I could feel the workies looking at me. Mr Chilled Red then turns to me and says accusingly that I must have been very busy not to have been in touch. I mumble something about 'yes, very busy' while trying to find somewhere to look. I decided the floor would do. I stared intently at it while the workies and Mr Chilled Red stared intently at me.

Did I mention that I was wearing my gym clothes? Oh yes. In 'imaginary world', I'd be on my way out for dinner or something. I'd be wearing something new. My hair and make-up would be perfect. I'd just be back from a holiday so would have a nice tan (hey, this is my fantasy!) I'd also probably somehow look a lot like Cheryl Cole. The workies would look at me, and then look at Mr Chilled Red and wonder how he even got a first date.

In 'real world' though, I was running late for a gym class so had put my lycra on ready. Lycra is not a good look. My hair was a mess. I had no make-up on. I hadn't even washed. In 'real world' the workies were probably just thinking..'she smells.'

The lift finally got to the bottom after about what seemed like an hour and I dashed off to my class. Spent the whole hour wondering if it will be necessary to move home.

Lesson learnt? Must start dressing up when going in the lift.
Morale of the tale? Don't shit in your own back yard unless you don't mind the mess.