As it's now gone midnight, tonight is my night, or should I say her night.
A celebration to be had apparently, so the local indian beckons, now that's not too bad.
But on Sunday we're going shopping in York, oh joy of joys, trailing around shops all bloody day trying to make the politically correct comment every time she tries a new dress on.
You say it looks nice and she says it's crap(so why did you put the bloody thing on then) .
You say it's doesn't look right, thinking you've now got grasp of the situation, as she says she likes it
I give up, it's like a lifelong initiation ceremony, never could get the grasp of them.