texts I send to Brosheen late at night:
me: […] said Panic Girlfriend is 65% likely to only score as Mildly Attractive. But 35% likely to be more than mildly attractive! Heyyyyyyyyyy.
Brosheen: And 100% going to be a from the box blonde.
me: [names as evidence] so 4 out of 7 in the category of “girls I dated or slept with and seriously wanted to date even if I wouldn’t admit it at the time” were not from the box blondes. But 5 of 7 in said category were a blonde of some sort during at least part of our period of dating and/or dalliances.
But really Roisin is probably going to win that bet because let’s be honest, when panicking because I’m leaving alone in a brand new city, my first instinct will likely be to cling to the nearest pretty blonde with boobs.
And then Roisin will sweep in and tell me to stop it, because said blonde Panic Girlfriend will not be an interesting, worthy person and that’s where this whole conversation started in the first place, me giving her permission to come knock some sense into me.
"that sentence is a very crude awakening to my hypothesized but probably will never happen baby"
- Brosheen ambien texts
Today Roisin came over for a zillion hours and we ate so much food and spent forever trying to find remixes of Call Me Maybe and Robin Sparkles and scrolling the gaystew tag and now I feel like a person again.
me: Pico’s just not a lap kitty. It’s okay.
Róisín: We will train him to be.
me: Right now I’m training him to like Corrie. Before that was Skins. Next I might do Torchwood. Maybe he’ll be a cat with a British accent?
Róisín: OMG CATS MEOWING IN A BRITISH ACCENT
me: CATS MEOWING IN A WELSH ACCENT