Featuring The 21 Hurl

I'm still a little traumatised by one of my New Year experiences (namely the girl who tried to chat me up, and when this did not appear to be working, added in slight desperation "but I'm ALMOST 20!" I apparently shooed her away from me like a chicken in a farmyard. In order for that to make sense, I should point out that the Fleetch and I developed something we call 'the 21 hurl', which basically means that any time anyone 21 or under flirts with us - rather than being flattering and so forth - it instead makes us want to vomit all over ourselves and the other person. We used to yell "21! Hurl!" at each other a lot, which I'm sure our neighbours appreciated as a nice change from all the "FLEETCH!" and "STEVE!"s they used to hear) so I do apologise for not having blogged sooner. However, a funny conversation happened last week between me, Wetsoks, and our Portuguese friend. I don't know whether people just don't say what they mean in Portugal, or whether it is always Opposite Day over there, but this was the result of our cultures merging.

Portugal: Do you like this film?

Me: Yes, it’s pretty good.

Portugal: You don’t like it.

Me: I just said that I did like it.

Portugal: No, you don't.

I made small despairing noises. Wetsoks looked very excited at the thought of having a new way to mock me.

Portugal: We can watch something else, you know.

Me: I fucking like it, woman! My god!

Portugal: …No, you don’t. I'll change it.

Me: *pinching nose in frustration* Gah!

Wetsoks: (grinning) Hey, do you want this cake? You don't, do you?

Me: I do.

Wetsoks: You don't.

Me: I like cake.

Wetsoks: Nah...

Me: (near tears) You know I like cake.

Wetsoks: No you don't.

Me: SERIOUSLY! NEED! CAKE!