I broke my glasses yesterday. It was all for a good cause. After 3 pints of lager drunk in the company of Beautiful Boy and Queen of Fun I was tanked up and ready for forward roll action. The Queen walked off in disgust as BB and I threw ourselves into a succession of forward rolls down a grassy hill at the beach, causing a team of cricketers to halt their game and watch the bad bad view. Putting glasses into my pocket really did not protect them from becoming as bent as me. We did manage 3 rolls each however and I even snuck in a full length body roll making it four. It was after walking around work glassesless that I realised why I wear glasses. I trailed around work with my hobble looking like a half dead junkie putting customers off their £2 sales. Glasses detract any attention away from the weeks worth of shopping I'm storing in these bags I tell you. Nevermind, my first experience of public grass stained forward rolls was well worth it. The day I had leading up to these battered eyes was much fun also. I met the Queen of Fun earlyish for breakfast (her's fried mine's continental). We were then joined by BB and made for a pretty 3some, sexless once again. We headed beachward and I just about managed to keep up with the excruciating pain in my foot getting worse by the second. We played on decrepit swings that came away with my much weight and coming apart roundabouts till we could take the exercise no more. I thought about clambering my whole weight onto a seesaw but sized up the weight of my counterparts and realised that even if they both sat on one end I'd still send them flying. We hung out by the pier, seeing nothing through the fog and watching a lady disappear with her dog. We saw someone wave from the sea so we waved back, all excited that this swimmer all that distance out was taking the time to wave at us. I saw a notice in the paper today that someone almost drowned around the place where we saw this swimmer and around the same time. I wonder how the swimmer never noticed anything. It's not the sort of thing you could really miss, someone drowning, you know? We took a walk back along the beach with my stupid shoes (I really need to get some new ones) getting caught in seaweed and jobbies of many varietys. I wonder how far these turds had travelled? had they come preserved out of the ocean or were they freshly laid? Who knows. We buried a few so there may be some blind kids roaming around the beach today. I thought I might put a bottle with my number in it into the sea but knowing my luck, an Aberdonian bam would retrieve it and proposition me for a good tonguing or something equally foul so decided against it. We sat in a pretty part of the beach, a bar called Miami and drank way too expensive beer (and of course cider for the classy Queen) and discussed things such as massive clits. Is it right for a clit to hang down low? Is that over shagged or just a defect? We reached no logical conclusions, not having seen enough to compare fairly. There was only one more thing to do: mini bowling. Queen of Fun's throws were more insipid let gos (think she didnt want to force anymore farts out and was therefore going with caution) while myself and BB got rid of the agression nicely. Even with bump and bowl BB still came last. I blame the lack of coordination on the lager and distracting hot company. On leaving we stole a puck from the air hockey table and thought we were pretty damn cool. I don't know how we got that impression but there was a fight for it. Next time we are going for the mini bowling ball. Well, the Queen is cause she has a stealing problem. It's a real condition, never leave her alone anywhere. The last time she was in my house she took a fanny pad and a packet of sultanas. I don't know if these items were to be used in conjunction with each other however. I also discovered a stash under her bed of various items that came from my house, my work and all our friends houses. So, BB if you wondered where your lube went, the Queen has it, dunno what for and Babs, if you were looking for the part of your art project that went missing and caused you to drop a grade, I know exactly where it is. Oh and The Clubb, she has at least 2 of your CDs. Anyway, enough about all that and back to my wonderfully exciting day which was so good until the third pint and like miss s, I really did get 'tired and emotional'. And work was hell, worse than hell. And a drunk man came in and I'm chatting to him, he's like 60+ and he's all friendly and then he says 'I'm going to die tonight' And then he's just standing there about to cry telling me not to make the mistake of falling in love cos it's not worth it. Right enough. As if I wasn't depressed already but I think I cheered him up for at least 30 seconds, until he left the shop and forgot he'd even spoken to me. ANd the rest of the customers were just rude and stupid and buying bad porn and asking me my name (Dolly from now on). It's like hello, am i really going to go out with a 40 year old who moans about the price of a porn omnibus (£3.95 for fuck sake) and wears sandals and is male. Hmm, I'm thinking it's not really going in his favour for some reason. I was glad to go home and moan and be an asshole, no actually I really wasn't but I was real happy to get to sleep and think about my wrecked glasses and how the hell they would fix. No more forwad rolls for Miss Fee I tell you. And more to the point, no more bloody alcohol. For at least 3 days.