Naughty Nurse Nancy is Depressed...

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(Warning: This is an incredibly obscene and overtly unpolitically correct post - enter at your own risk!!!!!)

Last week, when I was tying myself up in knots over persistent lack of communication from new man on the scene Mr Darcy (by that point already visibly more a Mr Wickham rogue than a Mr Darcy gentleman), my Czech colleague gave me the best and definitely most apt in these circumstances piece of advice ever, namely that my life in Prague is basically the entire boxset of ‘Sex and the City’, and any unfortunate / painful occasions contained within it merely one single 30 minute episode thereof. This is precisely what I have been telling myself several times a day ever since last weekend, when said Mr Fuckface (as of three days ago his latest moniker) finally broke it off with me by email (such a classy touch…), claiming that he'd met someone else in the last week or so and as a result couldn't really see me any more except as "just friends" (bullshit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). To tell the truth it didn’t come as much of a surprise to me by then - he’d been sporadic at best at communicating ever since we “sealed the deal” as it were, and already I was starting to think I had ended up with more of a charming but emotional fuckwittish Hugh Grant / Daniel Cleaver type than a brooding but gentlemanly Colin Firth / Mark Darcy after all… If anything I’m just pissed off I didn’t get in there first - though come to think of it I did actually kiss some other guy on Saturday before the offending email arrived (if only cause I suspected the end was coming and I wanted to cheat on him first before he went and chucked me), which at least goes some limited way to restoring my whole battered self-esteem. In all honesty this is actually the first time I have ever been on the receiving end of a dump in my whole 25 years of life on this earth (I am the heartbreaker in this neck of the woods thank you very much), and more so than the fact that I’ve lost someone I really thought I could have potentially had something genuinely good with, the affront to my dignity as Sarah the hitherto confirmed Ice Maiden / merciless B.I.G. really is a bit of slap in the face for me this time round… That’ll teach me to allow a little chink in the armour for the first time ever in my life - from now on it’s back to exploiting men for all they’re worth and shagging only on a strictly business basis... Red wine is a far better option in the long run (never had a bottle of that let me down before) and put it this way - it certainly solved a few problems last night and the night before at any rate! Or maybe not come to think of it, as while heavily under the influence and in some serious need of some sexual validation on Sunday I ended up rather ill-advisedly texting Mr Ugly, who surprise surprise then rang me an hour or so later, true to form quite pathetically eager to get back in touch and obviously desperate to milk my temporary state of bitterness / vulnerability for all it was worth (I didn't let him, by the way). Considering the bastard’s been running round town telling people I (in the words of one of our few mutual acquaintances) have an “angelic reputation” (ha!) and “won’t let any man fuck me” (certainly true in his case but by no means a general principle, as we all well know) I really don’t know what the fuck I was thinking there, but at the very least maybe I’ll have someone to buy me dinner again now… Oh well, must remember episode episode episode and not the fucking series as a whole - surely no truer nor more relevant words have ever been spoken in my whole Prague life before...

Anyway, fuck 'em both. As of Wednesday I have a new enterprise to take my mind off all matters men related - and one that’ll earn me a little bit of extra cash in hand to boot! To cut yet another long story short, last week I somehow ended up landing a little part-time telephone job as (I cringe to say it!) “Nasty Nurse Nancy” who telephonically serves men’s sexual health needs and behaves in ways totally out of keeping with the modern-day NHS (from what I hear most nurses these days are too overworked and underpaid to feel like getting jiggy with a presumably sick or impaired ward on their shift…). I should point out now that this job only actually involves recording your voice for a fantasy line in just a one-off four hour session, rather than actually talking to fat sweaty old guys as they jerk off over the phone (definite line in the sand drawn there I think!), but even so I’m not entirely I can go through with just that to be honest… Not that I find the task itself degrading or offensive in the slightest (if anything it’s the guys getting sex-ploited here, I’m getting paid!); the simple fact is that the script is just too damn funny to read out!!! I mean seriously, how is anyone supposed to read out the immortal lines “lick my silky hot cunt honey from your fingers baby!”, “ram your big throbbing fuckstick into my tight little virgin asshole!” and “make me your cum-guzzling slut!” aloud and still keep a straight face????????? All practice sessions with Dutch Girl or Spanish Housemate have so far descended into fits of uncontrolled hysteria within minutes, usually followed up by mystified discussions about what ridiculous bullshit these sad pathetic old men obviously get turned on by - so much so that they are willing to spend serious $$$$$ just to listen to me (a supposed university graduate / corporate employee) sitting in a room in a middle-class suburb of Prague, fully clothed and probably looking like a tired, hungry, make-up less mess after a boring eight or nine hours of respectable office work during the day!!! Thank God they provide the wine is all I can say - and at the very least it will be the most hilarious 50 quid I ever earned in my life before, not to mention a good story for the grandkids to boot!!!!!!!!!!!!

And while we're on the subject of perverts who can’t see you, incidentally Dutch girl and I ended up having a seriously traumatic experience a couple of Sundays back, this time involving a balding, bearded, badly dressed, Stephen Hawking look-a-like epileptic blind man of all people, who Dutch girl had recently met through the expats.cz website (our main way of hooking up with new people in the city here). Poor naive Mariam thought he’d been joking on MSN beforehand when he said he was blind - but no, in fact the dark glasses, googly cataract eyes and long white stick were all dead give aways in this regard, and collectively almost enough to make us turn and run right there and then without even stopping to say hello first… In the end though we decided that even we couldn’t abandon a blind man in the middle of the street (or not without seriously damaging our karma in the process at least), so eventually we went up to him and introduced ourselves, only to find ourselves then subjected for the next hour and a half to a quite frankly bizarre onslaught of weird comments and pervy remarks by the hideous Mr Blind (the best / worst of which was when he sniffed Dutch girls neck while she was bravely leading him along and said he like her perfume - turns out she wasn’t actually wearing any…). Just the fact that he even thought he had a chance was repulsive enough, not because of the blind thing as such (not that small-minded to rule someone out on that basis) but the whole scrawny, dishevelled appearance and freaky Hawking-esque twists to his stature, combined with decidedly weirdo / perverted personality, were (unsurprisingly) just so not doing it for either of us… To cut a long story short, Dutch girl and I were left so hideously traumatised after the whole freakish turn of events (an innocent coffee in a café turned disturbing hour and a half of total and utter surrealism / sexual predation) that we were practically forced to dive straight into the nearest bar we came to and down a fucking great shot of becherovka (cinnamon flavoured Czech liquor - very potent) to steady our nerves - at just 4 o’ clock in the fucking afternoon….

Anyway, down to other random bits of news from the last couple of weeks: me and Dutch girl are on a major B.I.G. offensive at the moment, strategically targeting the tourist bars in the centre in a never-ending quest to score ever more free mojitos / cosmopolitans from any passing ugly / drunken stag party men; the sudden onset of winter (three feet of snow and gale force winds for days) had me actually donning a fucking balaclava in the street last week (the new Eastern European terrorist chic!); I’ve been out for another Indian with Alithia (apparently far more of a B.I.G. herself than I ever gave her credit for before!); and am valiantly trying but failing to give up smoking, but unfortunately for both my lungs and any poor sod within 100 yards of me at the time seem to turn into half weepy / half murderous raving individual every time I give it a go for more than 24 hours at a time…

Oh what a great big fucked-up mess my life is at the moment - reading back over all of the above I really don't know whether to laugh or to cry... who'd have thought that all of the above could ever happen to the once previously boring, sensible, staid old me????????? Prague is seriously going to end up being the death of me one way or the other, and one thing’s for certain at any rate - I am going straight to hell when it does… See all of the rest of you dirty motherfuckers when I get there - I’ll be the one wearing the kinky nurses uniform, with a fag in her mouth and swigging red wine straight out of the bottle… Fuuuuuuuuuck......

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