Finally managed to capture the heart of newest love interest/covers band bass guitarist. Well, captured all of him really. Using my standard hessian sack and tape trick, I pounced on him after band practice. I then dragged him back to my abode willingly, and tied him to one of my new antique kitchen chairs. (A past lover had left them when he had to vacate his apartment quite suddenly after I had ...been there one night. Seems landlords don't appreciate it when you knock out retaining walls to build yourself a walk-in closet. Who uses kitchens these days anymore, anyhow?).

So, with bass guitarist tied and bound I prance about giving him my best love dance complete with bunny hop, jazz hands and ending in a fantastic downward dog. Mission complete - he is besotted by me (bewildered/besotted - who cares?!). I think he'll call. His screams as he flew out of my front door were not as terrified as they could have been. Yep, just another night....

Apologies dear readers, I have been on a job that required me to, shall we say, 'lay low' for a while. Yes, my old bosses from the Tokyo 'modeling agency' have tracked me down and I had to do a 'quick run' to an eastern block country to pay them back for skipping out last time. Plenty of action to be had that I can't share unfortunately. Lets just say that 3 certain men will have smiles on their faces for a long time to come. 2 guys will never look at me the same way again (or indeed any other woman). And 1 gentleman has converted to buddism to find 'peace and inner calm'. Seems I have all sorts of effects on people. Oh well, a job worth doing is worth doing well I say!

Have been permanently banned from newest love interests unit block. Apparently, cover band bassists don't appreciate it when you knock on everyone's door in the block asking the neighbours to sign a petition to have him chuck the band and go solo. With moi as his agent, I guaranteed he would be my one and only client and I would look after him very very well! Some people don't know it when a genuine opportunity lands in their lap. Maybe I should consider door knocking at 2.00pm instead of 2.00am??

Poor new love interest has indeed not known what's happened to his previously quiet and inane existence. All I did was climb through his window and lay wantonly on his bed awaiting his arrival. What harm? Although he didn't seem impressed with the state I'd left his liquor cabinet and undies drawer in. And perhaps my wanton look of wearing 10 pairs of his boxers all over my person and the possibility I was passed out and he couldn't get to the iPod dock remote which was blasting "Shiny Shiny" on high rotation. Still I say, what harm?

Discovered can actually bestow myself upon two unwilling participants at once. Sat on front stoop of beloved/arch nemesis' abode singing "Throw Your Arms Around Me" at top of voice repeatedly whilst sent 257 texts/vmails (including pics of me in various states of drunkenness on a stoop) to new cover band bass guitarist love interest. One is used to my delightful quirkiness whilst the other poor innocent won't know what hit him!

FiFi Jo's New Job

Awake still fully dressed in yesterday’s outfit of faux-Chanel pink suit with faux-fur trim and midnight blue six inch heels.  I am ready to hit the shops, determined to buy a newspaper and spend the morning perusing the job's section.  I am confident a suitable job with an enormous pay check and short hours where I don’t have to move or think will suddenly appear.

As my second floor apartment is located above the bottle shop on Main Street, I leisurely make my way to the Newsagency, passing a department store along the way. Think I’ll just have a little look-see.  What harm?  Ooooh look!  A sale bin full of designer knickers.  How can a girl resist?  Start throwing pretty pastel printed pants all over the shop in an ecstasy normally kept behind closed doors.  Reach down to pick up a pair with sparkling stars on them, when instead feel another hand.  Hmmm, I am prepared to put up a struggle if need be.  Am in luck.  The hand is definitely male and as my eyes move upwards discover a pair of the blackest, most intense eyes a girl could fall into.  However, not being one for falling unless it’s off a bar table top at two a.m., I am immune to this delectable male specimens charms.  So far.  He chuckles at me something about my stamina and persistence and feels that an alcoholic beverage would be in order to “calm me down”.  Little does he know the effect is usually quite the opposite.   

Never one to turn down a free drink, he guides me to the in house café.  There we spend the entire afternoon together sharing expensive bottles of wine (bought by him), extremely witty banter (mostly by me), sexy laughter (me again), fluttering eyelashes (that’s him), suggestive licking of lips (both of us), sliding off chairs (that’d be me), snoring on the floor (yep, me again), and yelling and screaming over a waste of time and money (all him – charming aint he?).

NEXT DAY:

Awake to flashing in my eyes. Seems I have been placed in the department store window and am a vital part of the installation for the new women’s wear floor.  It’s an art work piece on the humiliation of women in modern society.  I am employed in my dream job!

FiFi Jo's Romantic Holiday Hell - Part III

Last we left FiFi Jo she had a blonde Station Master in the closet of her wilderness hut and a man claiming to be her website date, ‘Pumped69’, in the lounge room. No, this is not a metaphor for anything….what will she do?!

Being a naturally very forgiving and unselfish person, I accept ‘Pumped69’ at face value. His value in this circumstance being the crate of top shelf vodka he brings for our enjoyment, and not the fact he lied profusely about his age, height, looks and hair line. Damning the day I stopped using an intravenous drip for such occasions, I proceed to allow ‘Pumped69’ entry and full use of the kitchen, a room I know nothing about and could not manoeuvre around if I tried. Whilst he is pre-occupied with certain unnecessariness like ice, lime and glassware, I decide to check on Blondie in the boudoir. Thought I had heard a sexy murmuring earlier. Perhaps he is lying languidly on the bed awaiting my agile and youthful company.

Unfortunately, no such luck. Not only is there not a Blonde God on the bed winking at me suggestively, but there is no unconscious body in the closet either! I check all the nooks and crannies of the bedroom, but alas! My shining blonde knight has escaped! He is on the lam…from me! Why on earth would he not hang around after all I’ve done for him?! I turn to close the shutters on the open window and wonder - how did he escape? Cannot fathom some people’s attitudes to a good time, but let him go as a lost cause.

Return to the lounge room to find a raging wood fire blazing in the hearth, with a delectable picnic of cold meat treats and delicacies spread out in front of it. Well, there is something to be said for the middle aged men of this world over the young. They do know their way into a woman’s heart, with fire, dead beast and male company being my three main guilty pleasures. With a large plastic cup of vodka adding to the icing on the noticeably absent cake, I decide to relax into ‘Pumped69’s obvious wooing technique. I may have been wrong all these years. Choosing men with the body of a lumberjack but all the charm of a tree over men with a working knowledge of a woman’s mind and body may be the way to go. Their bulging hip pockets and gold credit cards can’t hurt either ladies! Well, what would you do?