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@scousebirdprobs
Liverpool
Scouse bird with a vodka dependency and an acute sense of social observation. Always self deprecating, always blunt. Follow me on twitter WARNING: Non-scousers may not understand language of this blog.
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Sunday, 13 May 2012

Preggo at Prego


I've got to hold my hands up this week I've been a bad bad housemate. I got to work the other morning and got a text off @susielovesvodka askin if I'd seen her keys. I said I hadn't, had a quick look in my handbag and couldn't see them (amidst the vodka obv) and that's it just went to work and minded my own business. Meanwhile unbeknownst to me she was running round the house like a smackhead who's mislaid their stash searching high and low for her keys. Not only were her car keys & house keys together but I'd also locked the door when I left that morning so she was imprisoned....and late for work. I checked my phone half an hour later and I had like a million missed called and desperate texts so I had to send my arl fella round to free her and then her ma had to drop off the spare car keys. FREE THE VODKA LOVING ONE. I got an e-mail from her saying she'd turned up 3 hours late for work, been done for speeding on the way, nearly got into a crash and then when she got to work she got sent home anyway cos they were all on strike. I think an 'FML' was in order. She was havin a mare, I couldn't help it I burst out laughing. How could so much shit happen to one person in one day? Of course on the way way home I found her keys nestled in my gym trainee winking at me. I'll be honest I was scared to go home, she seemed a bit angry like!


She phoned me at work the next day in a flap cos she'd found a slug had made its way under the back door and was havin a whale of a time whizzin round the kitchen. I advised her to cover it in salt and leave its dehydrated carcus there as a warning to all the other slugs that dare invade my gaff. FTM.


I decided a little housemate bonding time was in order so with Saturday bringing a bit of sunshine we decided to bust out the 1.5l bubbe kegs and go shopping on Jacques. Shopping when pissed is hard as we soon found out and as our fashion choices were becoming more and more "out there" we decided to fuck it off and go and sit in the sun in Chavasse park pointing at people in kitten heels and laughing. I clocked one particular monstrosity in lace purple tights and brown snakeskin kittens and sent Susie chasing after her to get a picture, something like that just couldn't get away without being named and shamed I'm sorry. Unfortunately after legging it from Tavern on the green all the way down to Prego she discovered the light was behind her so the picture didn't capture the horror that the eyes witnessed. Shitty ipone camera, why can't you be like me peepers??


Anyway after runnging into Paul O keefe the enigmatically handsome lead singer of @the 53s, I discovered, thanks to my mate Ciaran the barman, that the cakes on the bar of Tavern on the Green are in fact free. Well I was in my element! Free cake. FREE FUCKING CAKE!! How often does that happen?? So we sat eating muffins in the sun and I popped one in my shopping bag to take to Kirkby for @maverick85p. I was pissed so this seemed like a boss idea at the time. I fell asleep on the bus twice. Some fella woke me up near Walton sayin I was gonna miss my stop, which freakishly enough would have actually been my stop had I been gettin off in Liverpool but I was crossing the border into Kirkby and I was takin the bus to the end of the line. I mumbled something Father Jack-like to him and fell back akip. I turned up at Paddy's house still bladdered and had to try and talk to his ma like I was sober. I did that proper bang on overcompensating thing that pissed people do, she was deffo onto me. I opened my bag ready to present the cupcake and show what a boss thoughtful girlfriend I am only to find it had completely crumbled all over my bag and all my new clothes were covered in cake. Best idea I ever had like.


So now I'm sat here after goin for a meal to that Prego in liverpool one and I fuckin look preggo let me tell ya, I'm stuffed! I know San Carlo is usually the Italian of choice in Liverpool but be assed goin an sittin there while I'm chowing down a pizza and having to watch a load of skinny posers push a salad round a plate. Nah. 


I'd been to the Prego in Aintree before and the family of some Italian lad I went to school with owns the gaff so I know its genuine Italian scran. Can't go anywhere too mad cos Paddy is a typical lad and unless it comes with chips he's just not interested, you can't go wrong with Italian though. Eating our starter he whispers " Ay babe, how dya start with the cutlery? Is it inside out or outside in?" How adorable is he? I just told him I generally go for the implement that will get the food in my mouth fastest. Cos I ooze class.


 I ordered some cheesy tortellini gear and the waiter told me he can never finish it. "Yeah right" I thought, "You're a bad fanny, I can deffo polish that off." Tellin ya now, if I didn't go the gym so much I'd be the size of a house cos I am serious about scranning like but that meal had me off. I'm dying. Even Paddy the bottomless pit couldn't finish his pizza and chips. 


"Arr I can't eat another thing babe." He goes.


"So we're not having desert then?"


"Oh no, I can fit a cake in"


Love that man! 



We downed our sexy Chocolate Nut martinis and headed off home to lie on the bed and rub each other bellies. Sexy. It'll be a proper nice place to go on a summer night like overlooking Chavasse Park, I deffo recommend it. @PregoLiverpool1


Right I'm off to go sleep this food off. Inabit scousers.


Luv @boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs


xx

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