Man in a skirt. Me in a flap.

Taking shots all over town for upcoming presentation
this morning, but was running late for a meeting. And sweating.
Not a good look.

I decided to call the office to tell them where I was.

Fuck! No phone. Where was it?
Charging in my kitchen, bloody hell it's getting really late now.
No cabs around. Better call one. Argh! Can't!!! No. NO. I won't panic.
Suddenly I feel alone and vulnerable. God.
I actually find a phone box.
It eats my money. Fucking hell. Now very sweaty and hair looks like
I've lost a fight with a deep fat fryer.

Then I realise I'm outside the Virgin mobile phone shop.
Surely, surely they have phones inside, right?
Maybe just maybe they'll let me phone a cab.

Perhaps it was my winning smile.
Or my 'bedraggled sweaty woman' look.
But, thank god, they let me use their phone.

I still looked like Stig of the Dump in my meeting though.