Auckland attraction

I arrived back in Auckland at around 4pm, significantly rested and somewhat aroused at the prospect of a night out. It had only been 3 days since my last drinking extraveganza but i wasn't going to slack off. Not since i was having such a good run.

I was meeting an old school friend who i hadn't seen since we finished school over 8months ago. Meeting Laura was the equivalent of eating the last slice of cheesecake when you're already full. You are completly satisifed without it, but you eat it because it's there. I hadnt missed Laura, or actually given her a second thought since our last interaction but now i knew she was in the same city as me, the otherside of the world, i was filled with genuine excitement. I was also hugely eager to see if her 6months in Aus had relaxed her anally retentive self.

At prep school me and Laura had been inseperable. Then, as so often happens when relinqished from its repressive grip, we drifted apart. Our intrests drastically changed and while Laura became obsessive about hockey,i was more concened about concealing the affair i had started with a 6th former from his girlfriend and her blood thirsty friends. When said 6th former finally ended his relationship and ours could be made public the expression donned by Laura whenever we engaged in conversation was one which could only have been brought on by anal penetration. Perhaps she accidentally sat on her hockey stick, giving a new meaning to 'stick up ones ass'.

I believe the reasons for her sudden resentment towards me were two fold; firstly there was my sudden physical flourish into woman hood and while my height had denied me any chance of romance or even a dance at the prep school discos, it had secured me under-age entry to clubs in my first years of the senior school ( i was just 14 when i danced on my first bar top). Furthermore, to add insult to injury, not only did my once lanky deformaty gain me noteriety as 'legs' in the senior school but i also caught up with, perhaps overtaking Laura in the tit department. Only a year before Laura had been the Pamerla Anderson of the school, flaunting her 34 B's with increased fervor at every opportunity. Disco's, cinema trips...even all-girl sleepovers. They were the holy grail of popularity, gaining her the respect of every 12 year old boy, and most of the girls in our year. However, in the senior school breasts were a dime-a-dozen and certainly didn't count for much if you failed to be able to shift the baby fat that plagued her until she was 16. This was never something that i had to worry about and as my parents often reminded me, there was more meat on a half eaten chicken wing than on just one of my arms. I started saving for butt-implants the day i turned 12. Then i turned 14 and spent my savings on a bottle of vodka and my first malboro lights.

Anyway the first night with Laura came and went without any considerable grievences. Besides i had noone to bitch and moan to about the few almost unforgivable comments made, such as, after not being able to squeeze into my body-con mini skirt i was informed 'guys say they prefer a curvier figure anyway'. My slight annoyance towards this little gem of intelligence was significantly diminished when she failed to get into her own body-con mini skirt. I kept quiet through her huffs and puffs of frustration until she picked up my vintage off the shoulder LBD and sneered 'i would try this on but your style has always been a bit...'alternative' for me'. Oh well excuse me miss Jack wills-abercrombie and fitch BITCH, do you wanna take those lemon yellow crocs off and say that to my face??? Resisting the urge to do a round-house kick to her face i simply finished my lipstick and said kindly 'you'll find something. Most people put on weight when they go travelling anyway'.

I was also slightly miffed when Laura instigated the '5 foot rule', similar to that used in the prep school to prevent under-age sexual liasons but this time it was designed to ensure not one single, teeny weeny puff of my cigarette found its way into her squeeky clean lungs. So there i stayed 5 feet away at all times. Whether i was smoking or not. After all, that way i could ensure i was not associated with her when she insisted, over and over again that she would drink 'apple sourz' during a round of sambucca shots. That is really not something i can condone, but did nevertheless take advantage of the spare sambucca each time. Obviously.

I was informed the following morning that i had been found begging a kebab man to let me off 5 dollars for a donner meat. Seeing as the actual price was 5.49, i was essentially asking for free food, which apparently makes me a 'tramp'. I dont know what these people base their opinions on but in my eyes that makes me ecconomical. Apparently i had thought banging my shoe on the counter would make my argument more effective which apparently makes me a 'twat'. In my eyes that makes me assertive.

I had just finished tying the noose from which i desired to hang myself as LAura reminded me yet again how 'un-cooth' my behaviour had been the previous night and that even a kebab man deserved respect. This outraged me no end and i quickly assured her that in my opinion the career of a kebab man is sacred like buddahs very fat rolls and that my determination to get my donner meat had only been indicative of my deep respect for the work they do.

However, our dispute was brought to an abrupt end when Tim, my current scouser crush burst into the room and upon seeing Laura, burst into hearty laughter. Keen to know what the laughter was about i said 'oi Tim, what the fuck are you laughing about' and his reply gives me a smug tingling in my loins to this very day. Pointing at Laura he gasped 'when she got in last night she burst into tears and said 'oh my god i just let some guy go down on me and i dont even know his name'. I could have laughed, i could have scorned but I believe i took the high road after this and didnt even smile.

Instead i simply initiated a cheerful rendition of 'and i dont even know his last naaaaaaaaame' by carrie underwood, obviosuly adjusting the lyrics to 'and i dont even know his first name', everytime she walked in and out of the room. Cooth shmooth.