I hate Acidpod. Acidpod just got my desperately wanted/needed must-have Terry De Havilland Wonder Woman shoes!! (See previous post). He/she/it must have had one of those nasty widget thingy’s that whomever the highest bidder is (me – by £35 quid over current bid showing at the time) sneaks in at the last 2 seconds with a bid £1.09 higher than my maximum leaving me no time – except for gasping in astonishment time – to hurriedly trounce the bastard. Perhaps it is a sign that I have enough highly impractical shoes and really don’t need any more. Well, of course I didn’t need them – not in the way that I don’t actually have any shoes to wear at all but I did need them in a ‘me’ way – as they were so well, me. Pah – I hope they give poohface Acidpod perpetual blisters for being such a dirty rotten cheat.
Anyway – a fine time was had by all at the 70’s disco themed party I went to last night – snacks were of the moment – guacamole and cheese/pineapple sticks and chili con carne and garlic bread (what? bread? with garlic?).
Very Abigail’s party. Me – I went as Studio 54 trash as I couldn’t really think of trying to be anything else. Here’s a really bad photo taken before I left – shame you can’t get the full trashy combo effect of side ponytail, lurex halter neck top, dreadful jewellery and gold lurex socks topped off with lashings of lipgloss and fine glittery blusher.
Rather alarmingly – apart from the sunglasses I didn’t actually have to go out and purchase anything I chose to wear. And I can’t believe I used to wear those tight leopard skin trousers to work about 11 years ago. What was I thinking of? What could I have looked like? Why didn’t anybody try to stop me? The only slightly pleasing angle on them and much to my astonishment is that I can still fit into them. The hideous circular shiny silver bubble coat-thing is a home-sewn ebay purchase of about a year ago. I was quite taken with it and bought it as a piece of tacky memorabilia. It came in very handy last night and billowed dramatically in the breeze. I’m sure my neighbour’s think I am supplementing income or raising money for the next round of school fees by tripping out as a slapper. I was praying that no one would see me as I left the house but my shoes made a bit of a racket tippy tapping down the street so goodness knows. I got a few funny looks at the traffic lights a couple of times.
Anyway – good fun was had by all – a few people seemed to take it a little too far like a renowned soak of a wife that decided to sidle up to the host’s husband and get all frisky and physically suggestive. I did have a millisecond-long paranoid thought of whether the ‘themed party’ was actually all a front for a swingers-do but thankfully I just took another glug of my spritzer, re-adjusted my white shades and pulled myself together. I went on my own so was probably a bit nervous as I didn’t know that many people and was evidently dressed as a tart. Then I got a sudden worry over whether I had bad cameltoe as the trousers were rather tight – although they managed to survive a rather vigorous ‘rowing floor dance’ to ‘Oops Upside Your Head’ by The Gap Band (officially 1981 I believe!) and a sort of squishy conga to Instant Replay by Dan Hartman. Oh god – it sounds awful doesn’t it? It wasn’t – it was fun but I left at half twelve just as everyone was getting a bit wobbly on the living room-dancefloor and starting to pick at the cold chili con carne whilst laughing really heartily in the kitchen.
And then I wafted home in my hideous circular bubble-coat and fell asleep. I am still covered in fine glitter dust and can’t get it off. Oh well. Kiss kiss. Must dash – cheese football fondue for supper!
