Well, the Soldatka has a HOT DATE tomorrow. 
(the hunky hun has neglected me too long and has to go to the back of the queue again)
This means many hours of hot date prep. Now you lassies will know what I mean, not sure about the menfolk.
First: the flat. I am not sure if he will see the inside of this tomorrow, this depends on firstly how well we get along, and secondly on how pissed we get. It also depends on whether we run out of money as there is much booze in the house and I may ask him if he would like to sample a wonderful Liberace cocktail, with brolly and anything.
Anyway, domestic hot date prep is a tricky thing. My flat must not resemble a rhino's privy, as that would suggest I am a sloven and and a floozy, and that I don't wash my down-unders often. However should the flat be too tidy he may suspect that I am either a neurotic household fascist, or that I have planned already to lure him to my den of feminine iniquity!
I have it all planned. Tidy the house A DAY BEFORE. So it is still clean and twinkly, with an edge of being lived in. Bed linen still fresh, but slept in for a night, so not obviously laundered in crisply ironed welcome. Floors swept, but allowing the odd pawprint and moulted whisker. Dishes done, but not put away. BATHROOM CLEAN WHATEVER.
Embarrassing CDs such as Johnny Mathis and Julio Iglesias hidden and cool new ones at the front. Clever-but-not-too-highbrow novels lying about. One in a foreign language for good measure. All copies of Take A Break destroyed. Dim lighting good as multitude of sins thus concealed.
Secondly: Personal Grooming and Styling. Deffo matching underwear, but NOT matching PJs under pillow. Hair washing for morning so not slept on and poking in all weird directions. Pub is the local boozer, so no tiara or feather boa. Strictly no leopard print until better acquainted. Modest cleavage permitted but not too much leg as wish to give young chap something to look forward to. Skyscraper heels verboten as coming straight from work and still pretending to have bad back after throwing Monday sickie. Paint toenails but not fingernails as pretending not to have made too much effort but still having vixenish undercurrents.
Bright blue contact lenses always good as likely to inspire much eye contact while he tries to figure out whether they really did come out of a Xmas cracker or not. However avoid excessive slap as likely to be too pissed to remove makeup properly and it will end up on him, the pillow or the floor, depending where I end up.
Thirdly: Conduct. Refrain from Chainsmoking. Refrain from drinking doubles on an empty stomach. Refrain from using c-word until better acquainted. Refrain from getting drunk in pub, showing everyone my knickers and tattoo, and then inviting half of Leith round for a Johnny Cash Party, as likely to spoil mood of passionate intimacy. Refrain from getting smashed on Cointreau at home and dancing on settee in (matching) underwear and feather boa to Tales of the Unexpected theme tune. Unless hot date specifically requests and reciprocates by doing the can-can in his kilt to The Sweeney.
Good topics: Virtues of live music. Virtues of beer. How nice people with red hair are. Virtues of whisky. Work gossip.
Bad topics: Hatred of teuchter music, as date plays bagpipes. Hatred of tartan things. Virtues of Gary Numan. Skintness of date compared to self.
Well, I must go to my household and personal tasks, and do as much as I can be arsed with. Stay tuned for edited highlights!
Oh, and if the bugger stands me up, NEVER MENTION HIM AGAIN.
(the hunky hun has neglected me too long and has to go to the back of the queue again)
This means many hours of hot date prep. Now you lassies will know what I mean, not sure about the menfolk.
First: the flat. I am not sure if he will see the inside of this tomorrow, this depends on firstly how well we get along, and secondly on how pissed we get. It also depends on whether we run out of money as there is much booze in the house and I may ask him if he would like to sample a wonderful Liberace cocktail, with brolly and anything.
Anyway, domestic hot date prep is a tricky thing. My flat must not resemble a rhino's privy, as that would suggest I am a sloven and and a floozy, and that I don't wash my down-unders often. However should the flat be too tidy he may suspect that I am either a neurotic household fascist, or that I have planned already to lure him to my den of feminine iniquity!
I have it all planned. Tidy the house A DAY BEFORE. So it is still clean and twinkly, with an edge of being lived in. Bed linen still fresh, but slept in for a night, so not obviously laundered in crisply ironed welcome. Floors swept, but allowing the odd pawprint and moulted whisker. Dishes done, but not put away. BATHROOM CLEAN WHATEVER.
Embarrassing CDs such as Johnny Mathis and Julio Iglesias hidden and cool new ones at the front. Clever-but-not-too-highbrow novels lying about. One in a foreign language for good measure. All copies of Take A Break destroyed. Dim lighting good as multitude of sins thus concealed.
Secondly: Personal Grooming and Styling. Deffo matching underwear, but NOT matching PJs under pillow. Hair washing for morning so not slept on and poking in all weird directions. Pub is the local boozer, so no tiara or feather boa. Strictly no leopard print until better acquainted. Modest cleavage permitted but not too much leg as wish to give young chap something to look forward to. Skyscraper heels verboten as coming straight from work and still pretending to have bad back after throwing Monday sickie. Paint toenails but not fingernails as pretending not to have made too much effort but still having vixenish undercurrents.
Bright blue contact lenses always good as likely to inspire much eye contact while he tries to figure out whether they really did come out of a Xmas cracker or not. However avoid excessive slap as likely to be too pissed to remove makeup properly and it will end up on him, the pillow or the floor, depending where I end up.
Thirdly: Conduct. Refrain from Chainsmoking. Refrain from drinking doubles on an empty stomach. Refrain from using c-word until better acquainted. Refrain from getting drunk in pub, showing everyone my knickers and tattoo, and then inviting half of Leith round for a Johnny Cash Party, as likely to spoil mood of passionate intimacy. Refrain from getting smashed on Cointreau at home and dancing on settee in (matching) underwear and feather boa to Tales of the Unexpected theme tune. Unless hot date specifically requests and reciprocates by doing the can-can in his kilt to The Sweeney.
Good topics: Virtues of live music. Virtues of beer. How nice people with red hair are. Virtues of whisky. Work gossip.
Bad topics: Hatred of teuchter music, as date plays bagpipes. Hatred of tartan things. Virtues of Gary Numan. Skintness of date compared to self.
Well, I must go to my household and personal tasks, and do as much as I can be arsed with. Stay tuned for edited highlights!
Oh, and if the bugger stands me up, NEVER MENTION HIM AGAIN.
you women are so, so.......devious!
are we really so simple to fool?
no, no, don't answer that, i probably don't want to know.
one thing though, i would never fault anyone for having a Johnny Mathis cd. nothing wrong with making out to 'Chances Are'.
oh yeah, the reason i dropped by......HITLER!!!
you gotta tell me how that works.
lordy.