What do you get when two ditsy blondes walk home together?

Hello all,

                     Hope everyone is getting excited about Christmas. I have only been subjected to Cliff Richard once so far; that's pretty good going for less than a week til xmas I'd say.

This incident involves a good friend of mine, who is the only other individual I have found to be on equal footing with me in terms of my general ditsy, clueless, adorable (I hope) nature. Now, the two of us were walking back from the train station after a night out (I don't know why our other friends left us unsupervised, very bad move on their part) and we were nattering away, as girls like to do. So, we'd been walking for a good half an hour, and I'll admit, I didn't recognise where we were. We weren't going the way I would normally walk back from the station, but I just assumed my friend would know where she was going. In general, I have a tendency to rely on other people's sense of direction what with my own malfunctioning so frequently, so I just assumed we were taking some sort of short cut I didn't know about. Trouble was, my friend had assumed the exact same thing. So we walked a good distance, before I stopped and questioned;
"Is this the right way?"
To which my friend, wide eyed as realisation dawned, replied; "I don't know, I was following you."
"Oh. I was following you."
"Oh."

It was hilarious. We had no idea where we were, we might not even have been in York still for all I knew. We ended up having to get a taxi home we had wandered so far. And it is difficult getting a taxi to come to a place when you yourself don't know the place. Eventually a taxi found us, shivering in some random street near a pub. And as we got in, the taxi man asked if we had come to visit York and got lost. I was perfectly happy to go along with this story and save any dignity I had left, but my friend happily replied;

"Oh no, we live here. We just went the wrong way out of the station."

Nope, the truth was out, we were that silly.

So, to answer the question, what do you get when two ditsy blondes walk home together? The answer is lost, a taxi and a good deal of giggling. Perhaps I should put that in a Christmas cracker. Or perhaps I should keep stories that reveal me to be a foolish individual to myself....

But where's the fun in that?