Which women would Tasha sleep with?
Well, this was going to be a quick and dirty entry today, but it seems to have become a full rundown of a lengthy and random conversation. I had the pleasure of having dinner with Tasha yesterday, and it struck me just how random our conversations can be.
Tasha started by revealed that she had to call the German Embassy in London, but as she started the story, she got slightly distracted and her sentence trailed off slightly. “Why did you call the German Embassy?” I asked, “for shits and giggles?” As I said this I immediately finished it with “or for Schnitz and Goebbels” which sent us both into a fit of giggles.
A short while later, after I had shown her the photo on the right, Tasha asked: “What do you think of Michael Jackson?”
“As a performer? I like him.” I replied.
It only occurs to me now, that I should have responded with “No, I much preferred it when he was moving. The moonwalk would have been crap if he remained motionless the whole time.”
We chose from the menu. I had the Giraffe Burger (a quick note to any potential visitors to the restaurant: Make sure you read the description. The Giraffe Burger, it turns out, contains no giraffe at all.) The burger was served with ‘skin-on’ fries, which led me to ask how a restaurant can do less work by not peeling a potato, but then charge more money for it. I can just imagine that for an extra couple of quid I could get ‘unchopped skin-on’ potatoes, which I guess would just be a deep-fried spud.
I chose to have red peppers on the burger, which led to an admission from Tasha that she had recently bought peppers and that they’d remained uneaten in the fridge. I confessed that I had done the same and that my peppers were now “softer than a grandma’s tit.” A descriptive term, if ever there was one. Tasha chose jerk chicken, which looked vaguely like something that had been run over, eaten by a wolf and then vomited on to a plate. I’m assured it tasted far better than it looked, which is just as well.
The conversation covered the fact that Fearne Cotton is boring, including impressions from both of us as to what she may be like in bed. We discussed that the newly-launched Netflix lacks any decent films “It doesn’t even have Bridget Jones!” Tasha pointed out, “That’s because I think you’ll find Bridget Jones is owned exclusively by ITV2, 3 and 4 in this country.” I responded, referring to the fact that it’s almost always on one of those channels every single week without fail.
I also learnt that the latest woman in my life is far and away the best that Tasha has met, which is always nice to hear. This subject reminded Tasha that, when she moved house in December (two weeks after I had left), she had her parents over to help get the place ready for her new lodgers. “Mum helped out,” she said, “and when she saw that you’d tied a tie to the corner of each bedpost, she simply said ‘oh dear…’ and then said no more.”
I get on well with Tasha’s parents, but knowing that they’ll be eyeing me suspiciously when I next see them, makes me part-scared and part-giggly. Quite frankly, if they were shocked by that, it’s just as well they don’t know me any better.
Tasha revealed that she wanted to go through a day without using her thumbs, which she said would effectively make her an honorary Simpson cast member, though as I responded without questioning her motives at all, it means that she couldn’t be God.
As we sat eating, conversation lulled. Tasha then decided to tell me about her boss, Nick. , the first three words being fired rapidly from her lips: “Nick came back…” she began, before bursting into laughter and repeating it in a Chinese accent, prompting me to respond “Ahhh. Nickcameback. Brother of nincompoop…” which again caused us to dissolve into laughter, before the talking again stopped. Honestly, if you ever want to shut either one of us up, just give us food, it has a remarkable response. Tasha mused briefly, mid-dinner, about ‘the least successful Chuckle brother‘. I pointed out that it’s not necessarily a bad thing, and could be akin to saying that you were ‘the least richest millionaire.’ If the third Chuckle keeps popping up in conversations like this, I may have to do some research and find out exactly how successful he is.
After the meal, we decided to order coffee and that waitress brought over two large sugar pourers, each with a screw-on lid that was designed in such a way that both Tasha and I thought they looked like Emperor penguins. Again, this was accompanied by various impressions, this time waggling the pots and doing our best penguin impersonations.
The evening was rounded off with a “Top ten women I would sleep with” - compiled by Tasha, rather than myself, and leading with Angelina Jolie, but also including Katy Perry, though both of my suggestions of Julia Roberts (twenty years ago) and Jessica Rabbit were shot down.
Overall it was a much needed night out, and hopefully just a prelude to tonight, where I’m out for a late birthday meal with Lisa & Steve, Kip & Loz and Tasha & Jack. On reflection, I’ll be the only one there on my own in a group of couples. I should have thought this through…
Edit: In the spirit of all good (and several crap) bloggers everyone, I should pose a question: Who would be on YOUR Top Ten list of women to sleep with?
Location: Costa, Chelmsford