"I don't know how you're not in hip-hop." Edinburgh part 1

Ahhh, Edinburgh. Land of kilts, haggis, people wearing tweed and a 

group of endearing misfits I call my friends. It'd been far too long 
since my last visit so No'rn Ir'on and I booked it. And visit we did.

After a four hour journey where I mainly pondered what it was about 
trains that attracts the most bizarre social cross-section, I arrived 
and in typical style, headed to the lovely Queen's Arms to meet The 
Blonde. The Geordie came to meet us too and we grabbed ourselves a 
booth to have a good old catch up.

The Geordie, positioning himself in front of the tv screen:

"The cricket's on so I'm not interested in you for the next half hour, 
ok?"

He then proceeds to tell me ALL about the game while The Blonde was at 
the bar, while I wondered just how rude would it be to put my 
earphones in?

The Blonde comes back with Pinot and launches into a loudly graphic 
description of the intimate waxing module on her spa therapy course.

"So, I'm on all-fours, she's behind me with a spatula of hot wax and 
the whole class is looking up my foo-foo."

Suddenly, The Geordie shows a flicker of interest.

"Did you get your ass bleached too?!"

The Blonde ignores her husband and continues describing how it feels 
to have every hair from your genital and bottom regions removed in 
front of a gang of your classmates.

"Honestly, it was so painful, I could've done with a leather bit to 
bite down on."

The Geordie looks interested again.

"So, the teacher was showing us the Brazilian method and one girl in 
my class volunteered. She's a proper ginge. It was like a fish 
finger!" The Blonde continues gleefully.

We get to talking about her upcoming exams. I reassure her that she's 
totally capable and will pass with flying colours.

The Geordie sniggers, "You're handi-capable."

A fair bit of wine having been consumed at this point, we take a few 
snaps of our reunion. I lament one of them, saying I look awful.

The Blonde: "What don't you like about your face?"

Me: "It's spacky."

The Geordie: "CAZTARD!" 

Him and The Blonde collapse in giggles and high-five each other. The Blonde wipes tears from her eyes and suggests I tweet this. 

"Tweet it, don't delete it, innit!"

Me: "I don't know how you're not in hip-hop you know."

The Blonde: "I know! Me and my repartee. Repertoire. See?!"

We carry on drinking and chatting, punctuated by The Blonde panicking slightly while eating wasabi peas.

"I've dropped a pea in my scarf!" She rummages through her voluminous leopard-print scarf while The Geordie and I pretend we don't know her. 

We head back to their flat to get ready to go out (really not a great idea as we've had a skinful already.)The Blonde drags me into the bathroom, saying,

"Puffin, look at this!" I think she's about to show me some amazing new beauty product, but instead she drops her trousers and shows me the results of her intimate wax. I don't know where to look but utter the words,

"I can never unsee that!"

To get over the trauma, I carry on drinking wine while The Blonde does my makeup, showing off her new skills. As we head out again to meet friends in town, I say that I could be a model with the amazing makeup job she's done on my face.

"Yeah a model for Scope!" shouts The Geordie. 

After a blurry few more drinks in 99 Hanover Street, we decide to head back to Mr Tizz's house for music, food and more booze. I don't remember much past this point but apparently trapped my fingers in a door somewhere as they KILLED when I woke up Sunday. Apparently, Mr Tizz put Muse on the iPod at some point in the evening and I went on a drunken rant about how much I fucking hate Muse, Matt Bellamy and his smug pomposity. Apparently, Mr Tizz's face fell a bit. I don't recall.