hello. my lovely w-a-s-t-e-rs!undoubtedly, i'll get round to telling you of my latest adventures around the edinburgh festival (the link below is usually where i post them first - so go there!). meanwhile, also from that site, is another true-life tale of my uselessness. enjoy!TAKEN FROM - www.stevebeagrie.comOne of the things I’m famed for is my ability to unintentionally get myself into bizarre situations in public places (not saying exactly what, my mum might read this). I have a knack for this, just as I have a knack for saying the worst thing at the wrong moment. Anyway, I’m standing at the bus stop this morning (people who know me well enough will already know the famous bus stop story, no need to cover that shameful incident again) and there’s this lady, who works in an office next to said bus stop. Anyway, in recent weeks, she’s started smiling and saying hello. At first, I assumed I had food stuck to my mouth, but that’s highly unlikely. At least more than once. Not every day, for a fortnight, surely?Anyway, she’s rather nice (maybe a wee bit older than me but, being in my thirties, I can never work that out anyway) and who doesn’t like having attractive people smiling at them? Nobody, that’s who. I suspect she knows me from somewhere but, for the life of me, I have no idea who she is. No matter, we’re too far into the smiling and hellos fo me to embarrass myself with the old;“Yeah, and what was your name again?”Been there, done that. Besides, I may still have food stuck to my face or, worse, a snotter (!) You may think I’m being overly paranoid here but there remains a definite edge to the whole smile. To compound this, two of her colleagues usually walk past around the same time and give me a look like I’m some sort of scumbag (you know, like I’m Ian Huntley, and I’ve offered to bathe their kids - that look). I suspect they must all have been on a works night out on one of the many occasions I’ve made a public tit of myself.Perhaps I got my willy out? You never know, that seems to evoke disgust in two thirds of women, so the statistics support that theory. Sorry, mum, if you’re reading this. Anyway, my glacier-slow approach to making new friends seemed to be going along nicely (though I still, for the life of me, can’t place her). Anyway, she comes up to me this morning as I’m fiddling with my malfunctioning headphones. My almost socially-acceptable technological guard down, she approaches me and says;“Hi, I’m sure I know you from somewhere?”Not the most original thing I’ve heard. The accent throws me totally (she’s not local) and I’m certain I have no memory of this woman, beyond smiles and bus stop hellos. Oh, and this new social interaction! Argh! Better say something! So I did;“Yeah, I’m the guy from the bus stop.”Seriously, not a word of a lie. You’ve heard of wanting the ground to swallow you up? I’d have settled for the bus being on time, just the fucking once. She looks at me blank, the famous Beagrie charm isn’t working, say something else. Something witty and engaging;“I don’t see how, unless it was on Crimewatch!”Mental note. New people don’t get my “humour”. This is probably why I avoid new people like the plague. Anyway, I recovered enough from this bad start (she didn’t run away), but I still have no idea who she is, or how I can get round the whole name thing. In these internet-ruled days, I suppose i could google (stop giggling, you’re disgusting!) her work and see if they have a website, or something. That is pretty weird though, in a cyber-stalker way. Needless to say, I’ll doubtless get drunk and approach her in the pub, that’s probably what happened the last time. Everyone at work got a good laugh at my tale, including the woman next to me who said, in her usual,sympathetic tone;“Ask her to drop her pants, maybe you’ll recognise her then!”What do people think of me? That I’m like The Legend? In fact, is it too late to make out this story is about The Legend? Better not, or The Legend will make me get the bus to work tomorrow…sad, but entirely true. in other news, the nutter at my work has started making kissy-faces at me again and i am about to trade in my tortured-artist mattress on the floor for a bed! now, all i need is a matching mattress for it.once again, why do i tell you these things? because i love you.feel that love.steve x.
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