Those among you who’ve been paying attention (straighten up, there at the back, there will be a pop quiz on this later) will quite possibly recall that a wee while back I started a FormSpring account. It’s a place where people can ask me random, anonymous questions. That I will answer. Most of the time. I have started deleting the ones about my eyesight (eh?) because that just got annoying.
It seems, however, FormSpring has another purpose entirely. It’s given my anonymous admirer an outlet. Which is awesome. I didn’t even know I had an anonymous admirer until I invented FormSpring.
Here are a selection of questions, all left by my admirer. I’m assuming. This post contains a lot of sweeping assumptions and mass generalisations, OK? I’m assuming all these questions came from the one Admirer. Because anyone “Anonymous” gets read in the same bland voice in my head, and therefore my subconscious believes it is all said by the same person. So, if you are my Admirer and not the writer of the questions- or, if you wrote these questions and are not my Admirer- or, if I have two Admirers and are getting you pair confused (how quaint!) please let me know. These kind of things happen when everyone is anonymous.
Righto. Glad we’ve got that sorted. Where was I? Ahh, yes, anonymous questions from the Admirer!!
Cute, yes? And only a little bit odd. Made my day, I tell you! Oh yes. I may be sitting around in my daggy trackie pants taking salt baths but someone thinks I’m a dirty big spunk. Yay!!!
Unfortunately, I think my anonymous admirer may have actually had a somewhat grandiose, jellybean-tinted image of how I am, in real life. I’m not sure how this is occurred. I actually thought I was fairly transparent..? Maybe not. Because the next anonymous question I got- so long it was split into five questions– asked this….
The scenario. You are at David Jones in City a few years ago, in the days when they had lift attendants. You’re ‘On Seven’ checking out the overpriced chic LBDs, that when you tried on you steamed up the change room mirror. You decide to head downstairs …..to the basement and head over to the Food Hall to have some oysters, followed by some King Island Dairy Black Label Blue Triple Cream and washed down with a Tatachilla Cabernet Sauvignon. In your new LBD and high heals, you walk over to the elevators….’On Seven’ and press the down button. While waiting, you look in the mirrors on the lift doors and remind yourself how hot you look today. ‘Ding’. Elevator 2 arrives and doors slide open as you daintily walk over. As you approach the open door you notice… the most exotically gorgeous man you have ever set your eyes upon. He looks slowly checks you out from head to toe. You check him out from head to pelvis. You notice there is no one else waiting for the elevator, and he is the only person inside the…..elevator. Your heart starts to beat fast and your lips gently part. He then says in a Scandinavian accent, “Going down?”. What do you do? Take the elevator, or turn around and use the escalators?
Hmm. Lost of time and effort there. It’s only fair, really, to ensure that I answer as honestly as possible.
Well, one must appreciate the time that goes into a question such as this one. But there are a few minor details that just don’t add up. Such as it’s highly unlikely you’d catch me in a dress and heels. Am I on my way to a wedding? Funeral…? No….? A new pair of jeans and some Chuck Taylors then, please. And I can’t stand wine. Or seafood. The cheese i could go on, you serve it with crackers, right…? And why do I only look down to his pelvis…? Does this man have no legs….?
Anyhoo, to actually answer the question you’re asking- really, I think the only thing one could do in this situation would be… well, to be honest, I’d just about kill myself laughing. And then take the stairs.
And there you have it, folks. Quite surprisingly, I haven’t heard from my anonymous admirer again. Pity. I think perhaps he figured out I’m just not his type of chick. Totally his loss, people. Plenty more fishies in the FormSpring sea…