A Stumble pinched from Sus07‘s page – likely not the last, either.

The conceit (what an apt word) of this blog is to follow the romantic misadventures of a boozed-up, airheaded London party-girl as she dates her way through the city. Clearly, this is enough information for 99% of StumbleUpon’s straight male population to thumb it up and revisit often, but I found it distasteful. Leaving aside the obvious inspiration of the entirely uninspiring Sex in the City, I choose to loathe this blog on the merits (or rather, meretriciousness) of the author’s blatant motives of turning her ditzy diary into a book. Unfortunately for her, Helen Fielding beat her to the punch. And Bridget Jones, to her credit, was fictional.

So I took lots of drugs. Of the painkiller variety rather than of the recreational variety, but still. And then I drank. a lot. really. a lot. vats of wine in fact.

I danced with lots of boys. Flirted with several of the children who I met earlier in the week, told MB he’s marvellous and I flirted shamelessly with Hugh (with whom I have lunch date this week). Early in the evening I was trying to set him up with a friend of mine as they have tons in common etc, but as I got drunker, decided I wanted him after all. I did all sorts of subtle things including groping his bottom as I walked past. I did mention I was shameless?

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