I'm having a glass of very cold white wine.
While I was travelling down the escalator to catch my train home, some scum-sucking, bottom-feeding shitbiscuit of a human being ripped the little leather dog off the new Radley handbag that I got for my birthday and ran off, cackling maniacally.
I know that in the grand scheme of city crime, this is not a big deal. I also know that I am lucky: I was wearing an iPod, a new watch, and carrying my work laptop (in a Radley briefcase which also has no fucking leather dog anymore, as I ripped that one off in a fit of pique when it kept jamming in the zip).
In fact, that my assailant chose to purloin a small leather dog rather than any of the more valuable possessions listed above indicates what a profoundly stupid turd she (yes, she - no doubt she has 17 babies at home as well) is.
But the pointless stupidity of the crime makes it all the more enraging. I mean, what, pray tell, does she plan to do with it? Sew it onto her crappy Asda bag and pretend it's designer? Start a leather gimp-dog kennel for Barbies?
The bag was new, and from my mum, and lovely. It's now sitting looking rather forlornly at me, with the empty "lead" on which the dog once hung dangling ineffectually, rather like a flaccid penis.
Perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if I weren't already pissed off about the fact that I am bleeding like a stuck pig, and suffering one of those periods that makes you wish you were a boy, and hate boys for not having things like wombs that cramp and ache and twist all the livelong day.
It's the sort of period where you waddle leakily to the toilet every two hours only to discover that you're too late and scenes from the Saw trilogy have been reenacted in your pants. The sort that delivers unexpected stabbing wind-type pains up through your bits, which cause you (even in meetings) to leap out of your chair with an aggrieved expression, in the manner of someone who has suffered a similar fate to Edward II.
So that's why I'm having a glass of very cold white wine.
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
A rant on bags and wombache
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4 comments:
I have to admit that I have no idea what this bag is (see how un-fashion conscious I am) but I'm sorry you lost the little dog thingy. I second the ebay thought. hope the wine helps.
i am very sorry but i have had to giggle at your story. i know what sort of pitch and tone you have to your voice in stories such as this and I have imagined the whole blog as you and it is hilarious in a of course unfortunate setting.... can't believe the moronik chav though. (yes see i thought i give you an ally spelled word today - moronik)
Glad it made you laugh Dinky Dory - I think I'd have found it funny even at the time had I not been in a foul temper because of my period!
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