stripped bare

I feel like (a) chicken tonight.

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Sometimes I amaze myself.

For someone who reads a lot, I find myself searching for words or terms that I often use, but just can’t get out of my head when I need them. There are also times when I look at a word and suddenly find it unfamiliar, like I spelt it wrongly or something.

Just recently, I was trying to figure out the term we use for the girl version of bachelor parties. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember it! I had to settle reluctantly for Bachelorette Party because I knew I was wrong but was too lazy to think further. That’s until I received an sms telling me about the Hen Night that was gonna happen tonight. Oh yeeeeeeah. Hen Night.

That’s the word I was looking for. Why are we hens and guys stags?

So what do people do at Hen Nights except get drunk? I’m not exactly a fan of getting drunk and I’m shy about hiring a muscly, yellow suited fireman/stripper to get the bride-to-be’s rocks off. At such last minute notice, how can anything fun be prepared?

I hate it when things are unorganised, so I usually like to take things in my own hands. But the thing about volunteering means that the responsibility is all invisibly(and gratefully) pushed to you. That’s the thing I don’t like, and that’s what J always warned me about. So everytime my hands start to itch and I start to pick up the phone to arrange something, J turns to me with a You-sure-ah? look. Then I’ll shrink back into the background where I tie my hands up and bite my nails in anguish.


Written by smudgi3

November 2, 2005, Wednesday at 13:30

Posted in Dear Diary

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