Worst Gift EVER

Just incase you're not familiar - this Bull is wearing a bra because it has tits... and tits on a bull are useless (bulls have penises - that's they're money shot)... hence, the saying 'Useless as tits on a Bull'.

So I was doing the old blog hop and I came across one helluva funny mofo, at Steam me up, kid.

The post was about the worst gift you've ever received and it got me to thinkin'...  Hands down, without a second thought, Valentines Day somewhere in the mid to late 90s, springs to mind - it was such a forgettable gift, it seems I've forgotten the year - unfortunately not the gift.  I dated this guy, 'late 90s' (as he will be referred from here on in) for longer than I should have (no offence if you're reading this... but we both know that's true).  It should have ended on that fateful Valentines... but being a sucker for punishment, I stuck it out until I could stick it out no longer.  

I'm a big gift buyer... not big in terms of monetary value, but big in terms of thought.  Micko is the same... We often store up idea's in the brain bank from throughout the year and when it comes to Christmas or Birthday's we get something that the other really wanted (often had forgotten about) and surprise the shit out of each other.  That's just one of Micko's many endearing qualities - he puts a lot of thought into everything he does.

Late 90s was certainly no Micko!  And on this particular Valentines Day, me and 'late 90s' had been going through a rough patch - I think... I also am not too sure because the whole relationship was a rough patch and for the most part I think I've blocked it out.   

Anyways... I can't recall what I bought late 90s, but I'm sure it was fucking awesome!  He then reluctantly, sulkily, handed over his gift - not because he felt bad that his present was soooo shit, just because throughout our entire relationship, that was his persona (I'm sure it was just our relationship that made him that way and I'm sure he is much happier person these days).   

It was a card... something weird on the front (I can't quite recall what - perhaps an animal of some kind) and inside was blank... blank with a couple of stickers stuck in it, a red triangle, a blue square, a green circle and a yellow octagon.  There was nothing written in the card... not a single word.  Then he handle me a mini bottle of Midori (you know the tiny little bottles you find in a mini bar)... problem was, I hated Midori!  And he should have known that!


You know... If he's just given me the card and written something sweet in it, I'd have been really stoked. The gift aspect wasn't what I was looking for (and certainly not that fucking disgusting melon flavoured wannabe alcoholic cordial called 'Midori'!  The card alone would have been more than enough!

Surely he knew I was a beer drinker!  I'm sure he'd never seen me drink anything but beer.  It got me to thinkin', how much attention does late 90s actually pay to me.  So shortly after the card/midori episode I covered my eyes and asked 'What colour are my eyes?'  To which he sat silently for a minute contemplating... then said 'Brown?'    

Ummmmm... WRONG ARSEHOLE!  My eyes are blue!  Blue as the day I was born - about as far removed from brown as you can get.  Like I said before, I should have ended it there and then.... The me, here today, doesn't even recognise the pansy bitch I used to be.  That girl is someone who put up with way more shit than I ever could (now) and she is definitely worth another blog entry.  I'm just not sure I'm quite ready to open those drawers in my mind... just yet!

Jimmy speaks in the third person...

Was watching Seinfeld re-runs the other day... and it was the 'Jimmy' episode. 

If you need a re-cap - check it out... fucking hilarious!

Well anyway... It reminded me of a guy I used to date.  Now, I won't mention his name... but those who were close to me at the time will remember this guy.  For the stories sake, we'll call him 'Jimmy'.

Jimmy and I met at Oaks Day many moons ago (the Ladies Day of the Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival).  Oaks is a vertible smorgasboard of fine women... and the pickings aren't slim.  The odds would be 1:1 that if you own a penis, you will get some action (perhaps even if you lack the neccessary tackle you'll probably still get a pash).  Needless to say, 'Ladies Day', has grown into like 'Men Looking for a Root' Day.  As a single, fine piece of arse there was no better place to be!

I do have a few pics of that day... but I don't want to incriminate anyone... plus I don't really want you to see my fucken terrible outfit!  Like I said it was many moons ago... back when jeans and a tshirt were suitable attire for a social engagement - like a 21st, engagement and definitely a night club.

We all met at a mates place beforehand for a few quiet beers.  When Jimmy arrived, I was physically immediately attracted to him... He was a very good looking guy.  Arriving at the races, we all went our seperate ways, but I hoped we'd bump into each at some point.

Once the last race had run... we bumped into them and all headed to the pub.  I worked hard to keep his attention and it worked...we hooked up.

We ended up dating for around 18 months... but the more I actually got to know him, the more I realised he wasn't the guy for me.  Now don't get me wrong... he was one the kindest and most generous people I've met. Not to mention, he was damn hot!  Truly a lovely guy, inside and out, with a very sweet heart, but so not right for me.

How can that be?  Well, he kind of embarrassed me (and I'm ashamed to admit that).  He constantly talked about himself in true Jimmy style... "Jimmy wants seconds", "Jimmy was ripping"... you get the idea.  He was a surfer and I don't really like surfer speak.  I would cringe when he'd say things like "The surf was pumping... Epic man.. Jimmy thinks it was all time".  Although, he did look remarkably good all salty and sandy.

What else?  Well, he had the fuckest dance moves I've ever seen... They involved him pretending he was on a bodyboard, doing rolls and shit.  And while my mates would laugh at them, I'd feel the blood start running to my face and I'd have to hide.  He might of been super hot, but dance moves like that should be fucking outlawed!

Surely bad dancing doesn't constitute a break up if he treats you well and is fine?  Well, it kind of does in my books.  The vibe just wasn't there... I figured out it was all initial sexual attraction, followed up by not much else. 

Other defining points: 

1. He took more time to get ready than me - including apply foundation

2. He was a Two Can Sam - if he drank at all

3. We lived pretty much completely seperate lives - only seeing each other every other weekend

4. He booked a romantic Valentines dinner at an awesome restaurant... when I showed up, his Mum was sitting at the table with him. He'd invited her along and neglected to tell me.

5. He was a walk over and allowed me to treat him like shit - I'm even more embarrassed to admit that!

 

So I'm going to wrap this baby up....

After the 'its not you, it's me' talk, Karls put Jimmy on the ferry and Jimmy disappeared out of her life never to be seen or heard of again.  Karls just hopes he is as happy as she is... oh and that he's worked on some better moves!