She's just a little bit too tasty.

I always remember reading this article on Digg a while back about the most annoying topics of conversation you can have with someone. The one that always sticks is dreams, and it's true. I hate hearing about other people's dreams. I guess you can never see them the way that person saw them, and ultimately, it's a completely pointless topic of conversation. IT'S NOT REAL. Sean (my housemate) is the worst. Every dream he ever haves involves three things:

- Sarah,
- Outer Space or Zombies,
- Blowing shit up.

Sean, if you are somehow secretly reading this blog (which you're not because I know not even you would be able to find it) please please please stop telling me about your dreams. I. just. don't. care.

Anyhow, I promise I'm going somewhere with this. So despite nobody apparently giving a flying fuck about other people's dreams, I am going to tell you all about mine. Last night I had the best dream since, like, forever. Sure, there was the one where I had the Gameboy Colour that was also a time-machine. That was pretty banging. But this one was seriously messed-up. Here's what I wrote down:


Met a girl at an immigration facility up on the Great Lines (fields near the house). 
She worked there.
I tried haggling with her over the cost of my new passport. 
Got it for £3.25 instead of £3.30.
The banter was unparalleled. 


We went to lunch. Just walked along the fields, laughing. She was from Gillingham. 
Why hadn't I ever seen her?


She was quite short, maybe 5ft 5. Size 12. Longish curly blonde hair, cute little scrunched up face.
Big cheesy grin. 
Almost like a friendlier, slightly chubbier Taylor Momsen. 


We were wearing the same t-shirt. Both burgundy. 
Both had wristbands.
I gave her one of mine, she gave me a beige hairband in return. It was adorable.


And that's what I've got. I met the most amazing girl and spent the most amazing lunch break with her. She was my subconscious version of my perfect girl, and words cannot describe how absolutely gutted I was when I woke up. How sad is that, right? We've all had dreams of winning the lottery and then waking up and feeling glum, but how many people have fallen in love with the most beautiful, perfect person in the world? It was a first for me.

Odd start to the day. So anyway, work was a drag. The highlight of my day? Emily coming over for the second day running. She's just a little bit too tasty. I just need to resist temptation and remember that all girls are blood-sucking, vindicative, moody and soulless bitches.

So this girl in my dream was perfect. What's my idea of a perfect girl? Let's brainstorm:

1. She has to be shorter than me. Tall girls are intimidating. 
2. She should have some sort of interesting hobby, such as painting, photography or playing the violin. Drinking Jagerbombs doesn't count as a hobby. 
3. She should come out with occassional hilarious ditzy comments, but not so ditzy that you start to wonder if she is an actual moron. She should be intelligent, but not too intelligent.  
4. She must have a friendly face and great hair. 
5. She should be popular, but not too popular. I don't want us to be the metaphorical prom King and Queen. 
6. She should have absolutely no problem stuffing her face with a Big Mac from time to time. 
7. She must like one of the following: The OC, Jack's Mannequin, Liverpool FC or Man vs Food.
8. She has to understand that Sunday afternoons are reserved for football unless a roast dinner event is scheduled. In that case, I am perfectly entitled to check the scores on my mobile. 
9. She should have absolutely no problem singing Karaoke. 
10. She must wear white french knickers. Always. 

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