The majority of my day has involved stuffing some kind of inappropriate food into my mouth and hoping the consequences only add to the artery traffic rather than pushing it over the edge. If you've never eaten liquid cheese, that's right; not melted cheese, but liquid cheese, then I suggest you never do. However, if you do somehow manage to abstain from pumping this catastrophic substance past your canines then you will never experience what is now known as the "Liquid Cheese Highs and Body Palpitations".
I'm happy to be daft in public; in fact, if I'm out with someone who doesn't like to draw attention to themselves, it is almost my favourite way to spend a day. I quite enjoy singing to myself on pavements, making things in restaurants or just generally letting loose a little bit as and when. If I'm alone, I do it purely because I want to; I like exploring urges to do things in the same way children do. I dislike the thought that I do it for attention. However, if I'm out and about with someone shy, then their sheer embarrassment at someone having a little giggly playtime while people stare in horror is worth more money to me than you could stuff into a ten gallon hat.
Today I experienced the sort of Liquid Cheese High that had me singing to the waiter, stuffing napkins into crevices throughout Soho and incapable of using my own accent and voice. Glorious.
Unfortunately this was quickly followed up by a Liquid Cheese Body Palpitation in the form of a nose bleed. Yikes and cripes. Jings even. This rather irritating addition to my day could not have been timed better. There I am in a shop in Soho when all of a sudden my life source decides to go on an outing via my smell holes (the upper decks) - this doesn't particularly worry me, I get them all the time. I calmly go and sit in a chair and stuff a few errant napkins up my nose. All of a sudden I see an ex boyfriend of mine, he's wearing a t shirt which suggests he works in the store. He's coming towards me. Now, I have no ill feelings towards this guy at all... fine fellow, relationship ended fine... but I still don't particularly want to bump into him after 2 years whilst I have some recycled tree slowly being pumped with vein juice piped into my coke cavity.
As he approaches I try very hard to look casually at my shoes but somehow, heavens knows how, he manages to recognise the pig tailed napkin junkie in the corner with a rouge nose and pale face. What follows is one of the world's worst casual conversations (it's quite hard to be suave when you're snorting snot rags) and a promise of a coffee date that I think both parties hope to God will never come to fruition. Ah the trials of the Liquid Cheese diet.
This evening, after moving on to another restaurant where I couldn't decide on a pudding and so ordered three, I attended a screening and Q&A session about Neil Innes. Fascinating stuff. I only include this because I would like to seem cultured and less like a calorie guzzling bleeder who squanders her days being an attention seeking moron. Hooray for me.