Dear Diary,
What: A CONVERSATION BETWEEN ME AND GARY:
Location: MY LOUNGE
Time: QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT
Conclusion: EXTREME RELIEF WITH A SMATTERING OF HORNINESS
Gary
Hey, how are you?
Kat
Hey! Yeah, not so bad. Hows urself?
Gary
Im not too bad thanks.... you do know which gaz this is dont you? Lol
Kat
Oh, fuck you!! Lol, I am so embarrassed about that. Not to mention it makes me look really bad.
Gary
Haha.... people will start to think you have a Gaz fetish
Kat
Shit, how many people you told? And are you telling me you've NEVER got drunk and had two peopl in ur phone with the same name?
Gary
Yes i have..... but it turned into favourable circumstances
Kat
Well bully for you! All I'm left with is a sense of extreme embarrassment and looking like an absolute ho with an Alan Partridge fetish
Gary
Hahahaha - at first I thought u were genuinely joking
Kat
Lol, I fricking wish
Gary
So what you going to Oxford for?
Kat
Oh I'm visitng a mate who goes to uni there..... proper excited
Gary
Treat.... I've never been to oxford is it any good?
Kat
Well, I wont know till tomorrow! Lol. How're things in liverpool?
Gary
Nay bad cheers... I've got a part time job so its good im actually earning a bit of money for a change!
Kat
Nice!
Gary
You still working in that pub?
Kat
"Nay bad"? hahaha, you adorable welsh lad
Gary
It's true..... I am adorable
Kat
Yeah.... it sucks balls, especially since my hours have been cut from 8 a week.... TO 4. Fucking recession!! So im fucked, really. Need another job ASAP but nobody wants to hire anymore
Gary
That sucks.... I dont think I could survive on 8 hours let alone 4!
Kat
I know. Now u know why I'm completely skint. Otherwise I'd be over in liverpool every single week, partaying down!
Gary
Lol no one seems to go out much anymore
Kat
Well, we're all gettin old, etc....
Gary
Lol I did quite well on Saturday, I was up till 7 am
Kat
Although that is OF COURSE no excuse! Blimey, cant remember the last time i had a good all-nighter (*reminisces*)
Gary
Oh, it wasnt all drinking :P
Kat
Oh aye? So u got laid on Saturday then? ;)
Gary
Perhaps
Kat
Anyone i know?
Gary
Nope
Kat
Wow.... dont give everything away, will you? It's embarrassing!!
Gary
Lol, you have seen her i think but thats it
Kat
Oooh, who?!
Gary
I'm not saying coz she has a boyfriend
Kat
OUCH. Damn, you dont half get embroiled with innapropriate people, do you? It's that welsh charm, no mere woman can resist!
Gary
Lol, I like a challenge
Kat
Even though one of your challenges has lost me 3 friends? Lol
Gary
You lost yourself 3 friends, I had nothing to do with it
Kat
I know, I know..... I wasnt accusing. Do they ever say anything about me?
Gary
Nope. I dont think so anyway
Kat
Wow. Ouch. I want to get in touch and apologise, but im terrified of getting my head kicked in
Gary
Lol, I'm sure you wouldn't
Kat
No, I really would..... I've heard some of Zara's sotries about people she's fought
Gary
Why though?
Kat
Well..... come on, I betrayed her trust, did something she's been explicitly warning me for MONTHS not to do, and (apparently) broke their sink
Gary
I dont understand why she warned you off me.
Kat
Well... think about it, you're her ex. Friends should never fancy friend's exes, its a universal law
Gary
Woah woah woah..... I don't get that
Kat
Well..... I dont know, weren't you childhood friends as well? And then you went out (correct me if im wrong, i dont know the details)
Gary
I've only known her since high school, and we did not go out
Kat
Eh? what? But..... I thought you did!
Gary
Nope. Never
Kat
But.... why.... would she say that? I'M CONFUSED!
Gary
I bet she didn't, you just got confused
Kat
Or maybe she DIDNT say that - but I just assumed you had cos of all the times we've been out and she's just come out with "Don't get off with him"
Gary
Lol she knows I'm trouble, haha
Kat
In what way....?
Gary
Lol as in a sex pest kinda way
Kat
Are you a drug dealer? Do you fuck women over? Or do you murder fellow cricketers? Wait.... sex pest? Omg, what the hell is wrong with that?
Gary
All of the above :P
Kat
Hahahahaha! So what if you're a sex pest? She clearly doesnt know me very well - even if she were trying to protect me, I'm sure I could've handled it, lol
Gary
I've got loads of paracetemol in my cupboard..... I fuck women over the table and murder cricketers when I play
Kat
(*falls off chair laughing*) You crack me up
Gary
Why thank you
Kat
So......... all this time I felt bad for thinking I was flirting with a mate's ex, and it turns out she's just been trying to protect me from your rampant ways all along??
Gary
It would seem that way yes
Kat
Oh shit. Hang on a tick - all these months I've been sick with guilt about fucking a mate over and getting off with her ex at a party - AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN HER EX??!! So all I have to feel guilty about was the FUCKING BROKEN SINK??!!
Gary
Indeed
Kat
Wha... but.... omg, I'm so baffled I dont know who I am or where I live anymore.....
Gary
Lol, that confusing is it?
Kat
No.... I just feel incredibly wrong-footed. I've spent all that time thinking I'm a shit friend and a heartless bitch, and it turns out all I did was break property!! That can be fixed with money! So I HAVEN'T lost a friend over matters of the heart!
Gary
Aye
Kat
Oh thank FUCK. OH MY GOD!!! IM SO PLEASED!!! (*dances around the lounge*)
Gary
Haha
Kat
But..... GARY!!! Do you realise what this means!!!!?? All this time!! I've been really guilty and angry at myself and feeling evil.... and.... Omg, I'm so happy I can't be coherent anymore!
Gary
Haha
Kat
Omg, I'm not a total shit after all! I'm just a normal human being who broke a sink and NOT a friend's heart! I'm so chuffed I'm actually bouncing. Now I dont even feel guilty about having those photos on my phone! Which still make me go a bit girly incidentally, haha
Gary
Lol, oh god now I'M ebarrassed
Kat
Why? I've not shown them anyone! And trust me.... I wouldnt be embarrassed, I'd be kinda proud, lol.
Gary
Lol nice use of proud there
Kat
Omg, I didnt mean that (*hides head in hands*) OK.... VERY proud!
Gary
Lol
Kat
Like they make me VERY happy when I look at them..... hehe
Gary
I'm glad they have that effect
Kat
Haha
Gary
I deleted yours cos you told me to, but they made me very Proud when I had them
Kat
Well, there was more of a chance of Zara actually seeing them, being that your in the same city and all. And thank you! Hahahaha
Gary
You're very welcome
Kat
Still, shame you dont have them anymore
Gary
Indeed.... I'd have had many a happy time with them
Kat
Indeed. If I was any kind of decent person, I'd send them again......
Gary
Indeed you would :p
Kat
Hmmmm...... I DO have my phone next to me.... and I dont want to be accused of not being a decent person..... it might stop me getting a mortgage....
Gary
Indeed you do not, haha
Kat
Well, since my arm is being twisted....
Gary
Haha, make sure you send them to the right Gaz!
Kat
Well I wouldn't worry bout that, he's lost his phone apparently..... Got it?
Gary
Oooh cheeky :P
Kat
I'm afraid the sheep PJs detract from the sexiness a little.... lol
Gary
Lol.... I am Welsh remember
Kat
Ah.... so if anything.... I've made things worse! Or better, lol
Gary
Lol ;)
Kat
So you lost ALL the photos, did you say?
Gary
Indeed...... Ooh hello, another one. Nice!
Kat
Glad you approve ;)
Gary
:P
Kat
Right, since you've brought me the best news of my life tonight, I'll give you one more....
Gary
Oooooh..... I look forward to it. Aww just one!?
Kat
You had two before! You're just being greedy now :p
Gary
Dont want to be accused of being a bad person do you?
Kat
Ooooh, you manipulative bastard
Gary
:O
Kat
(*shakes fist*)
Gary
Lol shake it
Kat
I have to catch an early coach tomoro, I have no time to be setting up camera phones to take nekkid photos! (*shakes it like a polaroid picture*)
Gary
Haha..... oooh I like it
Kat
I should technically be in bed right now. So to bed I shall go.....taking my two boobs with me, lol. But before I go.....
Gary
Hello......
Kat
Was just wondering....
Gary
Yes......?
Kat
What is a Macbook?
Gary
Sorry?
Kat
Your status..... it says you have a Macbook
Gary
Oh...... an apple laptop
Kat
Nice! Well, night then! Sweet dreams, etc....
Gary
Night night thanks for the pic. And sweet dreams to you too
Kat
It's OK, you just havta reciprocate next time
Gary
Lol, oh I will
Kat
Look forward to it. Ta ra! xxxxxxxxxxx
Maybe not the SEXIEST sign off in the world - "Ta-ra" but who the fuck cares??!! BECAUSE I'M NOT A COMPLETE CUNT AFTER ALL!!! They never went out!! She was only trying to protect me!! And she doesn't even have to, because I don't care about having a relationship with him!! I don't care about him just wanting to get into my pants!! All I have to feel sorry for is the sink!! And the slight immorality of getting sexy in someone else's house..... but STILL!!!
I'M NOT A BITCH OR A HEARTBREAKER!!! HURRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
And I'm going to Oxford in an hour! This is the best day EVER!!!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: ecstatic
Current Music: "Ride on time" Black Box (perfect for dancing round in a celebratory manner)
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
The night I slept with Dr. Who
Dear Diary,
So I've buckled under extreme pressure from Lisa (love you really!) and am now compelled to tell you what went on on Monday night. Despite me saying it wouldn't happen again. I'm sure you can guess by now. I don't even need to ATTEMPT any suitable build-up or intrigue, such is my predictability...... haha.
Went out with Marie for usual pub shenanigans. Got talking to a man who looked remarkably like Christopher Eccleston - although he wasn't too pleased to hear this. God knows why, I think it's a massive compliment! Anyway, skipping over all the usual malarky - the talking, the flirting, the drinking - we ended up outside. Until Marie came to ask my something she wanted my "input" on, so I went back in momentarily.
So guess what? It turns out some random guy came in the pub and asked; "Is that barmaid in tonight? You know, the easy one?"
Now first of all - I've only worked there ONE FRIGGING NIGHT, so I'm hoping this referred to somebody else. Although, since it's only Marie, her sister, a lad and the owners who work there, I'm feeling slightly dubious. Second of all - nice of my friends to assume this meant me. And thirdly (which I furiously professed to Marie), even if I am easy, so the fuck WHAT?! Is it necessarily a BAD thing? Why? 'Cos SOCIETY says so? Well, fuck that, it's my fucking life, I'm not hurting anyone, I'm not cheating on anyone, I ALWAYS use protection, I don't have any diseases, so I'm not exactly spreading anything, I'm single and I have a goddamn right to do whatever the fuck I want, because it's MY life. Besides, whose business is it anyway??
Grrr..... In a spirit of righteous vengence and "fuck the critics" attitude, I went home with Chris (who I've named after his twin). Not sure HOW this could be defined as proving them wrong exactly, unless in my drunken wee head I thought "Fuck it, I'll show them I can shag who I want!" Blimey though, he had an absolute PIMP-HOUSE. I'm not even lying, I know I will say that sometimes as an exaggeration, but this truly was a house of kings. Pools of light coming from the floor, wide-screen mounted TV, a MASSIVE sofa, 2 lounges, a fireplace displaying a VIDEO of different types of fire. And, according to his mate who'd come home with us, a STEAM ROOM. I mean, DAMN. Although experienced the weirdest moment ever with this quote:
MATE: "I'll just have a quick steam and then I'll get my taxi."
BIZARRE!!! So, he eventually left, leaving the house smelling very strongly of eucalyptus and us to get down to it. Well, I SAY that - what I IN FACT mean is that drink was about to play it's old trick on me (or him, technically). But it's not so much that that bothered me, it was the fact that that old adage of "Men get better with experience/age" seems to not really be true after all. He was SHIT. Not to mention an extremely one-sided lover and a very rough handler, all hair pulling and grabbing, etc.... Now, I don't mind a bit of kink, and I'm all for trying new things, but not with someone I BARELY KNOW. That kinda stuff, in my opinion, should be saved for relationships.
After a while we opted for a change of scenery, ie: the steam room. Well, that was semi-fun, except I coughed till I thought my lungs would bleed, and inadvertantly hit my foot on a pipe pumping in the steam....... that was hotter than the centre of the earth. A fact I discovered as I felt a sensation akin to my skin being ripped off my foot. At my jumping around and pained shrieking, Chris merely replied; "Oooooooooooh, shit! You shouldn't EVER touch that, you know, it's dead hot."
NO FUCKING SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!
Hmmm.... Aaaaaaaaanyway. Made our way back to the bedroom, after me briefly locking myself in the bathroom and desperately puring cold water onto my foot. Things progressed as before. Started speaking up for myself a bit more than I usually would (ie: biting my lip and keeping schtum about their sorry-ass techniques) and edging away from him every 5 minutes, muttering about how we should just forget it - which he tried to rectify by going downstairs. Why do they ALWAYS think we like that???!! I'm fully aware that the girl's reaction in pornos promotes it as a GOOD thing, but for fuck's sake, I'm not one of those girls. At least learn where you're going first! They should teach that in Sex Education. Still, he came about 1cm closer than anyone else (since David, anyway), so that's progress!
On a side note, how the frig does ANYONE manage doggy style? I simply CAN'T figure it out! Nothing stays in place, and the positioning is awkward as anything. It just does NOT want to happen! How does it WORK??! Any suggestions welcomed.....
Eventually we sacked it off and went to sleep. Well, HE did, I once again lay there for several hours, wondered how lucrative a "Victims of Snoring-Caused Sleep-Deprivation" business would be, and watched "Saw 2" on my Ipod for a while. Hmmm.... deja vu, much? Ah, what a great birthday, back when one-night stands were actually fun and pleasurable as opposed to just funny.....
Woke u in the comfiest bed on the PLANET, next to Christopher Eccleston. Only, he didn't look so much like the 9th Time Lord in the cold light of early morning.
K: (*upon waking up and seeing him*) "Oh, hello....."
C: "Hi!"
K: "Oh my god, my HEAD....."
C: "I know, mine too. That was my mate's fault, haven't seen him for a year!"
K: "Yeah, think I remember you saying...."
C: (*laughing*) "You were pretty far gone last night!"
K: "Tell me about it."
C: "Did you actually say how old you were?"
K: (*feeling inevitable clunk of panic in stomach*) "Um.... not sure, why?"
C: "No, just wondering. I bet you're...... late twenties, early thirties?"
K: "FUCK OFF!!!!!"
C: "OK..... got that one wrong then...."
K: "I'm 22."
C: "Really? Wow"
K: "God, do I look older??!"
C: "No, not at all. I just never would've imagined sleeping with someone half my age."
K: "Yeah, well....." (*something clicks into place*) "Wait, WHAT?"
C: "What?"
K: "How old..... are you?"
C: "43."
K: "................................................................................................!!!!!"
Sweet sunny baby Moses. I literally couldn't believe it.
But before anyone berates me, there's an old saying (which I read in one of Belle de Jour's books) that goes: "An awkward morning beats a boring night." Even though the night admittedly wasn't that great, but hey - I got to stay in a pimp house! And had a refined conversation with an older gentleman! OK, when I say that, I mean, he didn't shut up ONCE, about the most random things like exactly how much everything was in his Pimp-House and where he bought it from, exactly what his Comfiest Bed on the Planet was made of, where he bought it, retail price, how much HE bought it for, etc... And a rather alarming out-of-nowhere story about the foreign love-of-his-life ex who broke his heart by leaving him after he insisted she had an abortion. Crikey.
Soon got out of there. He gave me a tenner for a taxi - so naturally I blew it on my hangover-curing friend the Subway (I bet people reading this think I work for Subway advertising or sumat) and got the bus home instead. Spent the day doing absolutely cock-all, watching horror films on Sky Anytime and pissing around online. Good times.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: frowny
Current Music: "Sir Psycho Sexy" - Red Hot Chillie Peppers (sexiest song ever. Just the lyrics are enough to blow my mind, let alone that kick-ass striptease bassline)
So I've buckled under extreme pressure from Lisa (love you really!) and am now compelled to tell you what went on on Monday night. Despite me saying it wouldn't happen again. I'm sure you can guess by now. I don't even need to ATTEMPT any suitable build-up or intrigue, such is my predictability...... haha.
Went out with Marie for usual pub shenanigans. Got talking to a man who looked remarkably like Christopher Eccleston - although he wasn't too pleased to hear this. God knows why, I think it's a massive compliment! Anyway, skipping over all the usual malarky - the talking, the flirting, the drinking - we ended up outside. Until Marie came to ask my something she wanted my "input" on, so I went back in momentarily.
So guess what? It turns out some random guy came in the pub and asked; "Is that barmaid in tonight? You know, the easy one?"
Now first of all - I've only worked there ONE FRIGGING NIGHT, so I'm hoping this referred to somebody else. Although, since it's only Marie, her sister, a lad and the owners who work there, I'm feeling slightly dubious. Second of all - nice of my friends to assume this meant me. And thirdly (which I furiously professed to Marie), even if I am easy, so the fuck WHAT?! Is it necessarily a BAD thing? Why? 'Cos SOCIETY says so? Well, fuck that, it's my fucking life, I'm not hurting anyone, I'm not cheating on anyone, I ALWAYS use protection, I don't have any diseases, so I'm not exactly spreading anything, I'm single and I have a goddamn right to do whatever the fuck I want, because it's MY life. Besides, whose business is it anyway??
Grrr..... In a spirit of righteous vengence and "fuck the critics" attitude, I went home with Chris (who I've named after his twin). Not sure HOW this could be defined as proving them wrong exactly, unless in my drunken wee head I thought "Fuck it, I'll show them I can shag who I want!" Blimey though, he had an absolute PIMP-HOUSE. I'm not even lying, I know I will say that sometimes as an exaggeration, but this truly was a house of kings. Pools of light coming from the floor, wide-screen mounted TV, a MASSIVE sofa, 2 lounges, a fireplace displaying a VIDEO of different types of fire. And, according to his mate who'd come home with us, a STEAM ROOM. I mean, DAMN. Although experienced the weirdest moment ever with this quote:
MATE: "I'll just have a quick steam and then I'll get my taxi."
BIZARRE!!! So, he eventually left, leaving the house smelling very strongly of eucalyptus and us to get down to it. Well, I SAY that - what I IN FACT mean is that drink was about to play it's old trick on me (or him, technically). But it's not so much that that bothered me, it was the fact that that old adage of "Men get better with experience/age" seems to not really be true after all. He was SHIT. Not to mention an extremely one-sided lover and a very rough handler, all hair pulling and grabbing, etc.... Now, I don't mind a bit of kink, and I'm all for trying new things, but not with someone I BARELY KNOW. That kinda stuff, in my opinion, should be saved for relationships.
After a while we opted for a change of scenery, ie: the steam room. Well, that was semi-fun, except I coughed till I thought my lungs would bleed, and inadvertantly hit my foot on a pipe pumping in the steam....... that was hotter than the centre of the earth. A fact I discovered as I felt a sensation akin to my skin being ripped off my foot. At my jumping around and pained shrieking, Chris merely replied; "Oooooooooooh, shit! You shouldn't EVER touch that, you know, it's dead hot."
NO FUCKING SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!
Hmmm.... Aaaaaaaaanyway. Made our way back to the bedroom, after me briefly locking myself in the bathroom and desperately puring cold water onto my foot. Things progressed as before. Started speaking up for myself a bit more than I usually would (ie: biting my lip and keeping schtum about their sorry-ass techniques) and edging away from him every 5 minutes, muttering about how we should just forget it - which he tried to rectify by going downstairs. Why do they ALWAYS think we like that???!! I'm fully aware that the girl's reaction in pornos promotes it as a GOOD thing, but for fuck's sake, I'm not one of those girls. At least learn where you're going first! They should teach that in Sex Education. Still, he came about 1cm closer than anyone else (since David, anyway), so that's progress!
On a side note, how the frig does ANYONE manage doggy style? I simply CAN'T figure it out! Nothing stays in place, and the positioning is awkward as anything. It just does NOT want to happen! How does it WORK??! Any suggestions welcomed.....
Eventually we sacked it off and went to sleep. Well, HE did, I once again lay there for several hours, wondered how lucrative a "Victims of Snoring-Caused Sleep-Deprivation" business would be, and watched "Saw 2" on my Ipod for a while. Hmmm.... deja vu, much? Ah, what a great birthday, back when one-night stands were actually fun and pleasurable as opposed to just funny.....
Woke u in the comfiest bed on the PLANET, next to Christopher Eccleston. Only, he didn't look so much like the 9th Time Lord in the cold light of early morning.
K: (*upon waking up and seeing him*) "Oh, hello....."
C: "Hi!"
K: "Oh my god, my HEAD....."
C: "I know, mine too. That was my mate's fault, haven't seen him for a year!"
K: "Yeah, think I remember you saying...."
C: (*laughing*) "You were pretty far gone last night!"
K: "Tell me about it."
C: "Did you actually say how old you were?"
K: (*feeling inevitable clunk of panic in stomach*) "Um.... not sure, why?"
C: "No, just wondering. I bet you're...... late twenties, early thirties?"
K: "FUCK OFF!!!!!"
C: "OK..... got that one wrong then...."
K: "I'm 22."
C: "Really? Wow"
K: "God, do I look older??!"
C: "No, not at all. I just never would've imagined sleeping with someone half my age."
K: "Yeah, well....." (*something clicks into place*) "Wait, WHAT?"
C: "What?"
K: "How old..... are you?"
C: "43."
K: "................................................................................................!!!!!"
Sweet sunny baby Moses. I literally couldn't believe it.
But before anyone berates me, there's an old saying (which I read in one of Belle de Jour's books) that goes: "An awkward morning beats a boring night." Even though the night admittedly wasn't that great, but hey - I got to stay in a pimp house! And had a refined conversation with an older gentleman! OK, when I say that, I mean, he didn't shut up ONCE, about the most random things like exactly how much everything was in his Pimp-House and where he bought it from, exactly what his Comfiest Bed on the Planet was made of, where he bought it, retail price, how much HE bought it for, etc... And a rather alarming out-of-nowhere story about the foreign love-of-his-life ex who broke his heart by leaving him after he insisted she had an abortion. Crikey.
Soon got out of there. He gave me a tenner for a taxi - so naturally I blew it on my hangover-curing friend the Subway (I bet people reading this think I work for Subway advertising or sumat) and got the bus home instead. Spent the day doing absolutely cock-all, watching horror films on Sky Anytime and pissing around online. Good times.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: frowny
Current Music: "Sir Psycho Sexy" - Red Hot Chillie Peppers (sexiest song ever. Just the lyrics are enough to blow my mind, let alone that kick-ass striptease bassline)
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Sweet dreams are made of this.....
Dear Diary,
Had two AMAZING dreams the other night. In the first one, I was walking down the local village when I noticed the library had been turned into a DVD shop/search for jobs centre. But the jos were ACTUALLY CATEGORIZED. How useful would sumat like that be? Anyway, I wandered in, and for some reason picked up and had a look at Season 3 of "The L Word" - even though I already have it. So who taps me on the shoulder? Only Kate Moennig and JENNIFER BEALS. My mouth was literally on the floor. We chatted for a while - well, when I say chatted, I mean I went a little crazy, told them both how much I love them and how madly sexy they are, and gave Kate a huge hug. Weird. But fun.
The second dream was by FAR one of the best I've had. You know when you have those dreams that are so sexy and intense and realisitic, you literally wake up turned on? Yep. We all do.
It was about Barack Obama. Just to defend myself, yes he may be 40, but damn, I think he's hot. Especially with Heat bringing out topless photos of him every now and then.....
Anyway, in this one, I was President Obama's new PA/Secretary, and living in America. And in the dream, he wasn't married, nor did he have kids. On my 2nd day on the job, I actually got to meet him, as we were both travelling to a conference in New Orleans (god knows why it was there). I was extremely professional and organised - he said I had a "cute British accent" and kept making me say things all English-ly for the sheer fun of it.
Anyway, so we were staying in this Motel in N.O for the night, which remarkably resembled a holiday resort in Spain we stayed in when we were younger. And blimey, was he chivalrous:
President Obama: "Hey, we only got one bedroom, so you take the bed, OK?"
Personal Assistant: "What? No.... are you.... joking? Where will you sleep?"
PO: "Right here on the sofa!" (*Pats sofa to illustrate*)
PA: "Wha...?! You can't... you.... I'm..... You're the PRESIDENT!! You can't sleep on a SOFA!!"
PO: "Why not?"
PA: ".......................You're....... the PRESIDENT!!!"
PO: "Yeah...... and my lovely British assitant gets the bed!"
PA: (*gobsmacked*) "But.... I can't! What if a pap looks in the window?"
PO: "A what?"
PA: "....... someone from the press. What if they look in the window? Tomorrow it'll be the story around the world - how President Obama got delegated to the sofa by his fricking PA!!! I don't want THAT plastered all over the front page of Heat!"
PO: "Heat?"
PA: "Ummmmm........ L.A today? New York times? One of those?"
PO: (*chuckling*) "Well, we can always make up an excuse! We can pretend I'm a huge snob and just took one look at the room and got pissed!"
PA: "But we haven't got a mini-bar! They know that! They'll never believe us!"
PO: "What?"
PA: "AND you'd have to look hungover tomorrow, which you'll never pull off......"
PO: "When did I say anything about drinking?"
Hmmm.... SO that fun little exchange went on for quite a while, which culminated in him INSISTING I took the bed. Which I ended up doing. The sofa folded out into a double bed with sheets, anyway.
So, about 11 oclock (early bedtime when you have a conference, y'know....) I put down all my files etc.... and took a wander into the kitchen to get a glass of water, in my big fleccy sheep pajamas, expecting His Presidency to be fast asleep. Imagine my shock when I saw him sat in his boxers on the edge of the sofa, head in hands, sobbing to himself. Naturally I panicked at the sight of a half-naked crying man and asked what was up, so he came and stood in the centre of the room, crying quietly in that strange man-way when they're trying to pretend they're NOT crying, but making it even worse by trying to hold it in. He said he was terrified - it was only his 2nd day of Presidency and he was scared to death of making wrong decisions, cocking it all up and forever being remembered as "that black guy who destroyed America" (rednecks can be SO dramatic). I tried to calm him down, and explained that he had been fighting and preparing for this for 4 years, he knew what to expect going in, and that he's finally got to the top and gained the trust of (almost) everyone, just like he'd planned and dreamed. I said he was a fantastic, inspiring, intelligent man who knew what he had to do, and by god, he was going to be good at it. I told him that nothing cheers people up like a big hug, so that's what I gave him. He said he liked my "cute" PJ's. We stayed hugging for AGES, as I tried to talk him round.
And that's when all my pseudo-political speak came to a halt, as he started kissing me. But, we're talking really exciting, slow, deep, sensual, tongue-filling-your-whole-mouth-but-in-a-madly-sexy-way kissing. Just there, stood up in the middle of the room, one of the Most Important Men in the World and his English assistant. And it was unbelieveably exciting - not because he sure as hell knew what to do with his arms and his tongue, but because of the sheer absurdity. He was one of the most powerful men in the world, and in that moment he was just a man, topless and kissing me.
We fell onto the sofa, but would you Adam-and-Eve-it, my Blackberry (*snort* As if I'd ever own a Blackberry!!) beeped in the other room - and being the Presidential PA, I had to get it. Upon returning, I removed my PJ's and jumped onto the sofa with him, groping at the bulge in his black boxers. And..... DAMN, what a bulge! I actually looked at that thing with FEAR in my eyes. For a second, anyway, before getting extremely excited and giving him head. It only took about 10 seconds before he "caught me by surprise," which I didn't know if it was due to my honed sexual skills, or him just being premature. Either way, it raised a massive momentary, never-been-raised-before-except-maybe-with-Clinton dilemna of; "Shit. He's the PRESIDENT. Do I spit or swallow??"
You don't need to know which one I did. Only I will know the truth...........
So, yeah - sensual, sexy, unhurried, lots of stroking, touches and neck-kissing. Even though I can never make this claim in real life - in DreamWorld I can clarify that Barack Obama is an EXCELLENT lover.
Had two AMAZING dreams the other night. In the first one, I was walking down the local village when I noticed the library had been turned into a DVD shop/search for jobs centre. But the jos were ACTUALLY CATEGORIZED. How useful would sumat like that be? Anyway, I wandered in, and for some reason picked up and had a look at Season 3 of "The L Word" - even though I already have it. So who taps me on the shoulder? Only Kate Moennig and JENNIFER BEALS. My mouth was literally on the floor. We chatted for a while - well, when I say chatted, I mean I went a little crazy, told them both how much I love them and how madly sexy they are, and gave Kate a huge hug. Weird. But fun.
The second dream was by FAR one of the best I've had. You know when you have those dreams that are so sexy and intense and realisitic, you literally wake up turned on? Yep. We all do.
It was about Barack Obama. Just to defend myself, yes he may be 40, but damn, I think he's hot. Especially with Heat bringing out topless photos of him every now and then.....
Anyway, in this one, I was President Obama's new PA/Secretary, and living in America. And in the dream, he wasn't married, nor did he have kids. On my 2nd day on the job, I actually got to meet him, as we were both travelling to a conference in New Orleans (god knows why it was there). I was extremely professional and organised - he said I had a "cute British accent" and kept making me say things all English-ly for the sheer fun of it.
Anyway, so we were staying in this Motel in N.O for the night, which remarkably resembled a holiday resort in Spain we stayed in when we were younger. And blimey, was he chivalrous:
President Obama: "Hey, we only got one bedroom, so you take the bed, OK?"
Personal Assistant: "What? No.... are you.... joking? Where will you sleep?"
PO: "Right here on the sofa!" (*Pats sofa to illustrate*)
PA: "Wha...?! You can't... you.... I'm..... You're the PRESIDENT!! You can't sleep on a SOFA!!"
PO: "Why not?"
PA: ".......................You're....... the PRESIDENT!!!"
PO: "Yeah...... and my lovely British assitant gets the bed!"
PA: (*gobsmacked*) "But.... I can't! What if a pap looks in the window?"
PO: "A what?"
PA: "....... someone from the press. What if they look in the window? Tomorrow it'll be the story around the world - how President Obama got delegated to the sofa by his fricking PA!!! I don't want THAT plastered all over the front page of Heat!"
PO: "Heat?"
PA: "Ummmmm........ L.A today? New York times? One of those?"
PO: (*chuckling*) "Well, we can always make up an excuse! We can pretend I'm a huge snob and just took one look at the room and got pissed!"
PA: "But we haven't got a mini-bar! They know that! They'll never believe us!"
PO: "What?"
PA: "AND you'd have to look hungover tomorrow, which you'll never pull off......"
PO: "When did I say anything about drinking?"
Hmmm.... SO that fun little exchange went on for quite a while, which culminated in him INSISTING I took the bed. Which I ended up doing. The sofa folded out into a double bed with sheets, anyway.
So, about 11 oclock (early bedtime when you have a conference, y'know....) I put down all my files etc.... and took a wander into the kitchen to get a glass of water, in my big fleccy sheep pajamas, expecting His Presidency to be fast asleep. Imagine my shock when I saw him sat in his boxers on the edge of the sofa, head in hands, sobbing to himself. Naturally I panicked at the sight of a half-naked crying man and asked what was up, so he came and stood in the centre of the room, crying quietly in that strange man-way when they're trying to pretend they're NOT crying, but making it even worse by trying to hold it in. He said he was terrified - it was only his 2nd day of Presidency and he was scared to death of making wrong decisions, cocking it all up and forever being remembered as "that black guy who destroyed America" (rednecks can be SO dramatic). I tried to calm him down, and explained that he had been fighting and preparing for this for 4 years, he knew what to expect going in, and that he's finally got to the top and gained the trust of (almost) everyone, just like he'd planned and dreamed. I said he was a fantastic, inspiring, intelligent man who knew what he had to do, and by god, he was going to be good at it. I told him that nothing cheers people up like a big hug, so that's what I gave him. He said he liked my "cute" PJ's. We stayed hugging for AGES, as I tried to talk him round.
And that's when all my pseudo-political speak came to a halt, as he started kissing me. But, we're talking really exciting, slow, deep, sensual, tongue-filling-your-whole-mouth-but-in-a-madly-sexy-way kissing. Just there, stood up in the middle of the room, one of the Most Important Men in the World and his English assistant. And it was unbelieveably exciting - not because he sure as hell knew what to do with his arms and his tongue, but because of the sheer absurdity. He was one of the most powerful men in the world, and in that moment he was just a man, topless and kissing me.
We fell onto the sofa, but would you Adam-and-Eve-it, my Blackberry (*snort* As if I'd ever own a Blackberry!!) beeped in the other room - and being the Presidential PA, I had to get it. Upon returning, I removed my PJ's and jumped onto the sofa with him, groping at the bulge in his black boxers. And..... DAMN, what a bulge! I actually looked at that thing with FEAR in my eyes. For a second, anyway, before getting extremely excited and giving him head. It only took about 10 seconds before he "caught me by surprise," which I didn't know if it was due to my honed sexual skills, or him just being premature. Either way, it raised a massive momentary, never-been-raised-before-except-maybe-with-Clinton dilemna of; "Shit. He's the PRESIDENT. Do I spit or swallow??"
You don't need to know which one I did. Only I will know the truth...........
So, yeah - sensual, sexy, unhurried, lots of stroking, touches and neck-kissing. Even though I can never make this claim in real life - in DreamWorld I can clarify that Barack Obama is an EXCELLENT lover.
Look at that, people. Look at that sexy bastard. We have VOTED for him. Definately the right choice, eh? ALWAYS put a man in charge of the world who knows what he's doing in bed. There are so few of them as it is.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: tingly (I do love reminiscing)
Current Music: "You oughta know" - Alanis Morrisette
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Crazy days
Dear Diary,
Naturally, you may be wondering, what on earth in my life could possibly have been crazy. Well, I shall tell you. One word - Saturday. (And no, I had no discernable Valentine - but damn, I had so much fun I didn't even care)
Had quite possibly the single most fantastic Saturday ever. Woke up late, dossed around for a while, had a very satisfying session at the gym (I still cannot fathom why I'm saying that as if it's normal), had a lovely shower, and read "Friends like these" by Danny Wallace (the original Yes Man) whilst eating a PRAWN CURRY. This was fucking BRILLIANT!! What could possibly make my Saturday better?
Oh yes. The shift at Marie's pub (The Trees). Arrived at 5, all fresh-faced, made-up and chipper. Had a quick initiation, courtesey of Julie, and then was basically left to it. We hung out and chatted for ages, occasionally serving someone. I discovered that she has the most infectious laugh EVER. And that Gaz keeps asking after me.
GAZ: SUM UP - Funny scouse bloke with slightly dubious criminal record, whose caravan I went back and shagged him in. Owner of grey tooth and no toilet.
Despite all that, I did feel slightly warm inside at the thought that he'd been asking for me. Until she told me how ridiculously (but not aggressively) drunk he usually gets, one night he full-on fell asleep right on the bar - and that the other night he was CRYING, in between saying how much he likes me. Jesus!
A) That's got to be the 3rd guy who's allegedly cried over me - what the fuck do they think I am? Some kind of goddess??
B) I'm really, really hoping he was pissed and sentimental about something else, and just happened to mention me as an afterthought.
Things didn't really pick up till about 9, and by then Rebecca had arrived and jumped on with me. Oh my god, it was absolutely AMAZING. The DJ was playing, the pub was PACKED (after 3 hours of boredom and inactivity) - and most importantly, I WAS HAVING AN ABSOLUTE BALL. Took to the new bar straight away, figured out the till easily, and where everything was, we were CONSTANTLY kept busy and I loved every SECOND of it.
Not to mention about 87% of the young, male, punters were absolutely fine-arse. So I chatted and flirted away, serving, staying constantly on my toes and always making time to have a little natter with people. For some unknown reason I started using the words "mate" or "love" all the time when serving - which I've never done before. Perhaps my natural guard was down, due to the lack of perving old men, perhaps the sheer darn friendliness of the place made me internally become an authentic barmaid - who knows?
Marie came in with TwatBoyfriend, who I naturally served with a very frosty yet civil demeanour and a hot pint glass. Well, it had just come out the dishwasher, and I simply COULDN'T reach the colder glasses....... (*evil laugh*) Was very surprised to see them together, given how much she's bitched about him recently/all the goddamn livelong day. Not to mention she'd gone to all the effort of straightening her hair, wearing a short black dress with beautiful matching heels and bag, and looked simply stunning. Christ knows why she thought that prick-tard deserved to have someone looking as lovely as her on his arm. They were apparently off out for a Valentine meal after a few drinks - guess he took the hint about never treating her or taking her out anywhere, or even acknowledging her as his girlfriend. Felt a slight twinge of jealousy that she had someone - before realising I'd rather be single than go out with that dick-face anyway.
Anyway. The night soon ended at 1am - for some reason that 8 hour shift had gone about 20 times quicker than my average 4-hour ones at the original pub. Julie gave me half a cider and black, a glass of white wine AND a Corona stark-bollock FREE after Last Orders. When met with my extreme gratitude and bafflement, she came out with this:
J: "Kat, I've been watching you tonight. And every single time I looked at you behind that bar, you had a smile on your face. You were constantly dancing to the music, always stopping to chat to people, always joking and having fun - but still serving at the same time. And that's what people like in here - I've about about 3 punters come up to me tonight and tell me how nice they think you are."
K: "Wow...."
J: "It's true. You just seem so happy to be here, and people LOVE that. You've got a natural rapport with folk, and that's what they come to a place like this for. Have you enjoyed it tonight?"
K: "Oh my god, absolutely! I've had a wicked time!"
J: "Awwwww..... thanks for coming in, love!"
K: "It was an absolute pleasure - thank YOU for having me!...... OK, that was corny thing to say, but STILL.......!""
At that point we exploded in a fit of unbridled gayness and started hugging each other madly. And then she asked me if 'd like to come back and work for her. My reaction looked something like this:
Seriously - I even leaped and everything. I think my scream was heard several counties away. Anyway, she's gonna ring me when she has some more shifts. This is BRILLIANT!!! Maybe everything's gonna work out after all! I can go to the gym and have a job and realise my dream of moving to Paris for 6 months! I'm back, baby, the bitch is BACK!!!
As always, things descended into an enormous lock-in. Fags were lit, everyone was chatting, me and another girl competed in a "Crab-Off" (which was basically seeing who could walk the furthest in Crab position. I won), the good times were rolling. Except when Jack kept coming and sitting next to me, and flirting loads.
JACK: SUM UP - The fat guy I slept with on January the 30th who had a small dick, lived with his parents, and snored enough to send me running out the house before he even woke.
Wow, I've just read those two sum-ups back. I really don't value myself much, do I? (*Sigh*)
So, after a while, I got up to ring a taxi. Except he followed me. Eeeep. Stood in the secluded area between the 2 toilets, I booked a cab whilst he stood next to me, staring, and after I hung up triumphantly, had the following conversation:
K: "Sorry, am I in your way or something?"
J: "No, no, it's just...."
K: "Oh, OK...." (*goes to walk off*)
J: "You can stay at my gaff tonight, you know."
K: "I..... what?"
J: "At mine. If you're having a good time, you don't have to go home."
K: "Ummmm...."
J: "You can stay at mine."
K: "Crikey. Nah, best not, your mum won't be too pleased, eh?"
J: "Fuck it, doesn't matter."
K: "Yeah, but it's my dad's birthday tomorrow, I should be there...."
J: "Aw, no, stay at mine! I don't mind, you know!"
K: "Well, that's very good of you...."
J: "So, you coming then?"
K: "Jack..... no, I just.... I just TOLD you, I've got to go home..... You just saw me book a taxi!"
(*Awkward Pause. I try to scurry past, as he leans in towards me*)
K: "Thanks anyway!" (*Ducks by and runs like the wind*)
Yikes. Marie could not stop laughing when I told her. Oh well, at least I'm not "going out with" (I use the term loosely) an absolute AssHat who takes me for granted and treats me like shit, except when he wants a booty call. Hmmm..... Anyway, she claims he really like me (Jack, that is, not AssHat) and that it's "so sweet." Urrrrrgh - why do friends DO THIS??? It was EXACTLY the same with Matt the pothead at uni..... NO-ONE could see what a creepy, freaky, over-sensitive knob-lord he was, they simply set me up with him, and claimed that it was "really sweet" that he was so keen on me - even after he threatened to jump off the building having heard me drunkenly complaining about him to Leanne. Ugh, ugh, ugh. And now I've got this.
How on earth could I tell him the truth - "You were a one-night stand, plain and simple. And a shit one at that, not even one of the 3 I actually ENJOYED. You need to face facts, I only liked you that one night because I was pissed off my 36F tits, and you were THERE, but I never want to have sex with you again, on account of your baby-dick. You can't make roast dinner with a chipolata, do you know what I'm saying?"
I can't believe I just wrote that. That was pretty harsh. And I'm not for a second suggesting you CAN'T have a lovely and fulfilling sex life with a small penis, it's just...... not for me. Sadly, Marie claims that he's always asking after me and that he "really likes me." Hold up - what on EARTH happened to men being the one's who want one-night stands and to fuck anything they can, and women being the emotional "I want a relationship" types?? Nature has been turned on it's ARSE. Grr..... I suppose actions DO have consequences after all. Who'd have thought it?
Anyway, my taxi soon came and I got the frick out of there.
Today was fairly nondescript. It was Dad's birthday - so we celebrated by going to a friend's for a meal - which was GORGEOUS. Not much to say, really. I encountered Glayva for the 2nd time in my life. Mum and Dad got massively drunk. Oh, and Oli texted me - remember, from ages ago? The one I figured out was just not that into me? Well, got a text from him tonight asking how I was "cos he'd not heard from me in ages." As if it was ME that fricking didn't reply. The cheeky bastard. Replied, anyway. Let's see him debate that.
He'd better not put me through all that SMS-prick-teasing again. I've had enough of stilted text conversations without even the question of dinner (or sex) at the end of it. Really, really wish we didn't live in such a constricted society and I could just text saying; "Look, either stop wasting your time and my credit, or give me a date and a place to be, and bring some balloons and jelly, 'cos we are gonna have a fucking PARTAAAAAY!"
Well, except I hate jelly and am utterly TERRIFIED of balloons.
But you know what I mean.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: sleepy and a tad tipsy
Current Music: "Just Dance" - Lady Gaga
Naturally, you may be wondering, what on earth in my life could possibly have been crazy. Well, I shall tell you. One word - Saturday. (And no, I had no discernable Valentine - but damn, I had so much fun I didn't even care)
Had quite possibly the single most fantastic Saturday ever. Woke up late, dossed around for a while, had a very satisfying session at the gym (I still cannot fathom why I'm saying that as if it's normal), had a lovely shower, and read "Friends like these" by Danny Wallace (the original Yes Man) whilst eating a PRAWN CURRY. This was fucking BRILLIANT!! What could possibly make my Saturday better?
Oh yes. The shift at Marie's pub (The Trees). Arrived at 5, all fresh-faced, made-up and chipper. Had a quick initiation, courtesey of Julie, and then was basically left to it. We hung out and chatted for ages, occasionally serving someone. I discovered that she has the most infectious laugh EVER. And that Gaz keeps asking after me.
GAZ: SUM UP - Funny scouse bloke with slightly dubious criminal record, whose caravan I went back and shagged him in. Owner of grey tooth and no toilet.
Despite all that, I did feel slightly warm inside at the thought that he'd been asking for me. Until she told me how ridiculously (but not aggressively) drunk he usually gets, one night he full-on fell asleep right on the bar - and that the other night he was CRYING, in between saying how much he likes me. Jesus!
A) That's got to be the 3rd guy who's allegedly cried over me - what the fuck do they think I am? Some kind of goddess??
B) I'm really, really hoping he was pissed and sentimental about something else, and just happened to mention me as an afterthought.
Things didn't really pick up till about 9, and by then Rebecca had arrived and jumped on with me. Oh my god, it was absolutely AMAZING. The DJ was playing, the pub was PACKED (after 3 hours of boredom and inactivity) - and most importantly, I WAS HAVING AN ABSOLUTE BALL. Took to the new bar straight away, figured out the till easily, and where everything was, we were CONSTANTLY kept busy and I loved every SECOND of it.
Not to mention about 87% of the young, male, punters were absolutely fine-arse. So I chatted and flirted away, serving, staying constantly on my toes and always making time to have a little natter with people. For some unknown reason I started using the words "mate" or "love" all the time when serving - which I've never done before. Perhaps my natural guard was down, due to the lack of perving old men, perhaps the sheer darn friendliness of the place made me internally become an authentic barmaid - who knows?
Marie came in with TwatBoyfriend, who I naturally served with a very frosty yet civil demeanour and a hot pint glass. Well, it had just come out the dishwasher, and I simply COULDN'T reach the colder glasses....... (*evil laugh*) Was very surprised to see them together, given how much she's bitched about him recently/all the goddamn livelong day. Not to mention she'd gone to all the effort of straightening her hair, wearing a short black dress with beautiful matching heels and bag, and looked simply stunning. Christ knows why she thought that prick-tard deserved to have someone looking as lovely as her on his arm. They were apparently off out for a Valentine meal after a few drinks - guess he took the hint about never treating her or taking her out anywhere, or even acknowledging her as his girlfriend. Felt a slight twinge of jealousy that she had someone - before realising I'd rather be single than go out with that dick-face anyway.
Anyway. The night soon ended at 1am - for some reason that 8 hour shift had gone about 20 times quicker than my average 4-hour ones at the original pub. Julie gave me half a cider and black, a glass of white wine AND a Corona stark-bollock FREE after Last Orders. When met with my extreme gratitude and bafflement, she came out with this:
J: "Kat, I've been watching you tonight. And every single time I looked at you behind that bar, you had a smile on your face. You were constantly dancing to the music, always stopping to chat to people, always joking and having fun - but still serving at the same time. And that's what people like in here - I've about about 3 punters come up to me tonight and tell me how nice they think you are."
K: "Wow...."
J: "It's true. You just seem so happy to be here, and people LOVE that. You've got a natural rapport with folk, and that's what they come to a place like this for. Have you enjoyed it tonight?"
K: "Oh my god, absolutely! I've had a wicked time!"
J: "Awwwww..... thanks for coming in, love!"
K: "It was an absolute pleasure - thank YOU for having me!...... OK, that was corny thing to say, but STILL.......!""
At that point we exploded in a fit of unbridled gayness and started hugging each other madly. And then she asked me if 'd like to come back and work for her. My reaction looked something like this:
Seriously - I even leaped and everything. I think my scream was heard several counties away. Anyway, she's gonna ring me when she has some more shifts. This is BRILLIANT!!! Maybe everything's gonna work out after all! I can go to the gym and have a job and realise my dream of moving to Paris for 6 months! I'm back, baby, the bitch is BACK!!!
As always, things descended into an enormous lock-in. Fags were lit, everyone was chatting, me and another girl competed in a "Crab-Off" (which was basically seeing who could walk the furthest in Crab position. I won), the good times were rolling. Except when Jack kept coming and sitting next to me, and flirting loads.
JACK: SUM UP - The fat guy I slept with on January the 30th who had a small dick, lived with his parents, and snored enough to send me running out the house before he even woke.
Wow, I've just read those two sum-ups back. I really don't value myself much, do I? (*Sigh*)
So, after a while, I got up to ring a taxi. Except he followed me. Eeeep. Stood in the secluded area between the 2 toilets, I booked a cab whilst he stood next to me, staring, and after I hung up triumphantly, had the following conversation:
K: "Sorry, am I in your way or something?"
J: "No, no, it's just...."
K: "Oh, OK...." (*goes to walk off*)
J: "You can stay at my gaff tonight, you know."
K: "I..... what?"
J: "At mine. If you're having a good time, you don't have to go home."
K: "Ummmm...."
J: "You can stay at mine."
K: "Crikey. Nah, best not, your mum won't be too pleased, eh?"
J: "Fuck it, doesn't matter."
K: "Yeah, but it's my dad's birthday tomorrow, I should be there...."
J: "Aw, no, stay at mine! I don't mind, you know!"
K: "Well, that's very good of you...."
J: "So, you coming then?"
K: "Jack..... no, I just.... I just TOLD you, I've got to go home..... You just saw me book a taxi!"
(*Awkward Pause. I try to scurry past, as he leans in towards me*)
K: "Thanks anyway!" (*Ducks by and runs like the wind*)
Yikes. Marie could not stop laughing when I told her. Oh well, at least I'm not "going out with" (I use the term loosely) an absolute AssHat who takes me for granted and treats me like shit, except when he wants a booty call. Hmmm..... Anyway, she claims he really like me (Jack, that is, not AssHat) and that it's "so sweet." Urrrrrgh - why do friends DO THIS??? It was EXACTLY the same with Matt the pothead at uni..... NO-ONE could see what a creepy, freaky, over-sensitive knob-lord he was, they simply set me up with him, and claimed that it was "really sweet" that he was so keen on me - even after he threatened to jump off the building having heard me drunkenly complaining about him to Leanne. Ugh, ugh, ugh. And now I've got this.
How on earth could I tell him the truth - "You were a one-night stand, plain and simple. And a shit one at that, not even one of the 3 I actually ENJOYED. You need to face facts, I only liked you that one night because I was pissed off my 36F tits, and you were THERE, but I never want to have sex with you again, on account of your baby-dick. You can't make roast dinner with a chipolata, do you know what I'm saying?"
I can't believe I just wrote that. That was pretty harsh. And I'm not for a second suggesting you CAN'T have a lovely and fulfilling sex life with a small penis, it's just...... not for me. Sadly, Marie claims that he's always asking after me and that he "really likes me." Hold up - what on EARTH happened to men being the one's who want one-night stands and to fuck anything they can, and women being the emotional "I want a relationship" types?? Nature has been turned on it's ARSE. Grr..... I suppose actions DO have consequences after all. Who'd have thought it?
Anyway, my taxi soon came and I got the frick out of there.
Today was fairly nondescript. It was Dad's birthday - so we celebrated by going to a friend's for a meal - which was GORGEOUS. Not much to say, really. I encountered Glayva for the 2nd time in my life. Mum and Dad got massively drunk. Oh, and Oli texted me - remember, from ages ago? The one I figured out was just not that into me? Well, got a text from him tonight asking how I was "cos he'd not heard from me in ages." As if it was ME that fricking didn't reply. The cheeky bastard. Replied, anyway. Let's see him debate that.
He'd better not put me through all that SMS-prick-teasing again. I've had enough of stilted text conversations without even the question of dinner (or sex) at the end of it. Really, really wish we didn't live in such a constricted society and I could just text saying; "Look, either stop wasting your time and my credit, or give me a date and a place to be, and bring some balloons and jelly, 'cos we are gonna have a fucking PARTAAAAAY!"
Well, except I hate jelly and am utterly TERRIFIED of balloons.
But you know what I mean.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: sleepy and a tad tipsy
Current Music: "Just Dance" - Lady Gaga
Saturday, 14 February 2009
An illustration of how little a life I have
Dear Diary,
3 GAMES I'VE MADE UP IN THE LAST 3 DAYS:
GAME 1: "When will I, will I be famous?"
RULES - The rules of this game are simple, yet fun. Simply pretend you are famous. Not OSCAR-winning Hollywood famous - we're talking came-3rd-in-recent-X-Factor famous, actor in a TV drama, Corrie, whatever. Someone B-list, but recogniseable.
LOCATION - Somewhere public works best. When you walk down the street/go to the gym/whatever.
HOW TO PLAY - Whilst pretending to be famous, just go about your daily business. Except everytime someone looks at you, imagine they are thinking; "Holy shit, it's her off the TV! She's getting the tram/doing her shopping like a normal person! Should I ask for her autograph?" Or that there's a Heat photographer hiding somewhere, taking a photo. It's a sweet feeling.
DOWNSIDES - The comedown when you remind yourself that you are not, in fact, famous. And after a while, you start getting a little paranoid that people are staring.
GAME 2 - "Toast Roulette"
RULES - You can figure it out. Put two rounds of toast in the toaster, cut each slice in half, butter 2, Marmite 2, Mayonnaise, Nutella, whatever your poison be. Fold the halves together like mini sandwiches, mix them up, spin the plate around, etc.....
LOCATION - Preferably somewhere where other people can't see you
HOW TO PLAY - Ever played/seen someone play Russian Roulette? It's exactly like that, only with a much tastier outcome. And without the alarming possibility that you might actually die.
DOWNSIDES - The realization afterwards that you have actually just sat and played Toast Roulette.
GAME 3 - "Abracada-bra!"
RULES - For this game to work, you must be a barmaid - preferably with an ample bosom. Turn up to work wearing a low-cut top with a quarter-inch of your sexy red decorative bra peeping out slightly over the top) and see how many tips you make!
LOCATION - The pub/bar in which you work.
HOW TO PLAY - Turn up to work with your "bra mishap" visible to all. Men are seeing a glimpse of your UNDERWEAR, something they should not have rights to if they are not sleeping with you, therefore glimpse + cheap thrills = they will tip you A LOT. If someone comments, giggle coquettishly and cover up. But always make sure it happens again. Keep it light, joke about it if you can, and for goodness sake, make sure it doesn't look slutty. Keep it "accidental" at all times.
DOWNSIDES - All the old men perving at you all night. But if you can handle it, fire away!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: cold but excited (have a prawn curry for tea and paid work later)
Current Music: "Killa" - Cherish ft. Yung Joc
3 GAMES I'VE MADE UP IN THE LAST 3 DAYS:
GAME 1: "When will I, will I be famous?"
RULES - The rules of this game are simple, yet fun. Simply pretend you are famous. Not OSCAR-winning Hollywood famous - we're talking came-3rd-in-recent-X-Factor famous, actor in a TV drama, Corrie, whatever. Someone B-list, but recogniseable.
LOCATION - Somewhere public works best. When you walk down the street/go to the gym/whatever.
HOW TO PLAY - Whilst pretending to be famous, just go about your daily business. Except everytime someone looks at you, imagine they are thinking; "Holy shit, it's her off the TV! She's getting the tram/doing her shopping like a normal person! Should I ask for her autograph?" Or that there's a Heat photographer hiding somewhere, taking a photo. It's a sweet feeling.
DOWNSIDES - The comedown when you remind yourself that you are not, in fact, famous. And after a while, you start getting a little paranoid that people are staring.
GAME 2 - "Toast Roulette"
RULES - You can figure it out. Put two rounds of toast in the toaster, cut each slice in half, butter 2, Marmite 2, Mayonnaise, Nutella, whatever your poison be. Fold the halves together like mini sandwiches, mix them up, spin the plate around, etc.....
LOCATION - Preferably somewhere where other people can't see you
HOW TO PLAY - Ever played/seen someone play Russian Roulette? It's exactly like that, only with a much tastier outcome. And without the alarming possibility that you might actually die.
DOWNSIDES - The realization afterwards that you have actually just sat and played Toast Roulette.
GAME 3 - "Abracada-bra!"
RULES - For this game to work, you must be a barmaid - preferably with an ample bosom. Turn up to work wearing a low-cut top with a quarter-inch of your sexy red decorative bra peeping out slightly over the top) and see how many tips you make!
LOCATION - The pub/bar in which you work.
HOW TO PLAY - Turn up to work with your "bra mishap" visible to all. Men are seeing a glimpse of your UNDERWEAR, something they should not have rights to if they are not sleeping with you, therefore glimpse + cheap thrills = they will tip you A LOT. If someone comments, giggle coquettishly and cover up. But always make sure it happens again. Keep it light, joke about it if you can, and for goodness sake, make sure it doesn't look slutty. Keep it "accidental" at all times.
DOWNSIDES - All the old men perving at you all night. But if you can handle it, fire away!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: cold but excited (have a prawn curry for tea and paid work later)
Current Music: "Killa" - Cherish ft. Yung Joc
Friday, 13 February 2009
Contact high
Dear Diary,
Thursday, as always, was nothing special, really. Went to the gym after hours of dossing around online and calling it "work" (well, YOU try checking Facebook, re-formatting an entire script and shooting Ass Hunters all at once!). The taxi driver - which is shameful in itself, as the gym is definately walking distance - suggested I talk to someone about all my aches, etc.... and get some advice.
So who do they give me? A LAD. A fricking LAD. I don't want a lad to show me how to use equipment while I'm stood there all blobby and inexperienced! Grrr..... Anyway, Personal Trainer Kevin was very nice and helpful, showing me previously undiscovered machines used for the triceps and bum, etc... whilst also showing me useful pain-dissolving stretches, stomach crunches (THAT'S apparently how you get rid of a belly! Sit-ups are WRONG!! We've been doing it WRONG this whole time!!) and how to using the rowing machine properly - which I wasn't. Anyway, was all very nice and polite, and got his number at the end! Even if it WAS only on a Personal Trainer business card. Ah well! Only stayed an hour before getting picked up, mostly worked on my arms and bum.
The evening was fantastic. Nipped up to Marie's pub to talk to her Landlady - who wasn't there. Oh joy. Apparently she couldn't take 5 minutes to come downstairs, she was doing something that important. Oh well, Marie got me to write my home/mobile numbers on a receipt, which was placed directly next to the till. Try and ignore THAT, motherfucker!! Hehe.
On the way home, Dad (who really is on the way to becoming my personal chauffeur, *blush*) stopped off at Tesco. Do you know what I did on the spur of the moment?
I BOUGHT A WEBCAM.
Now, obviously, this has no real gravitas, except that the one we're previously using to speak to my beloved travelling sibling is completely PANTS and doesn't work worth shit. We can see him, but he can't see us. Anyway, got home, installed it, and IT WORKED - just in time for James' (Shaun's mate) parents to arrive. And we made contact via Skype, and it was SO MUCH FUN!!! We all sat talking to them for 2 hours, rotating seats every now and then, like a video conference. Oh, and we got referred to his Facebook photos. Just so you know what we're missing over there:
Thursday, as always, was nothing special, really. Went to the gym after hours of dossing around online and calling it "work" (well, YOU try checking Facebook, re-formatting an entire script and shooting Ass Hunters all at once!). The taxi driver - which is shameful in itself, as the gym is definately walking distance - suggested I talk to someone about all my aches, etc.... and get some advice.
So who do they give me? A LAD. A fricking LAD. I don't want a lad to show me how to use equipment while I'm stood there all blobby and inexperienced! Grrr..... Anyway, Personal Trainer Kevin was very nice and helpful, showing me previously undiscovered machines used for the triceps and bum, etc... whilst also showing me useful pain-dissolving stretches, stomach crunches (THAT'S apparently how you get rid of a belly! Sit-ups are WRONG!! We've been doing it WRONG this whole time!!) and how to using the rowing machine properly - which I wasn't. Anyway, was all very nice and polite, and got his number at the end! Even if it WAS only on a Personal Trainer business card. Ah well! Only stayed an hour before getting picked up, mostly worked on my arms and bum.
The evening was fantastic. Nipped up to Marie's pub to talk to her Landlady - who wasn't there. Oh joy. Apparently she couldn't take 5 minutes to come downstairs, she was doing something that important. Oh well, Marie got me to write my home/mobile numbers on a receipt, which was placed directly next to the till. Try and ignore THAT, motherfucker!! Hehe.
On the way home, Dad (who really is on the way to becoming my personal chauffeur, *blush*) stopped off at Tesco. Do you know what I did on the spur of the moment?
I BOUGHT A WEBCAM.
Now, obviously, this has no real gravitas, except that the one we're previously using to speak to my beloved travelling sibling is completely PANTS and doesn't work worth shit. We can see him, but he can't see us. Anyway, got home, installed it, and IT WORKED - just in time for James' (Shaun's mate) parents to arrive. And we made contact via Skype, and it was SO MUCH FUN!!! We all sat talking to them for 2 hours, rotating seats every now and then, like a video conference. Oh, and we got referred to his Facebook photos. Just so you know what we're missing over there:
The jammy bastards! I personally would cut off my limbs and crawl there using my EYELIDS just for a chance to see that view for myself. So they told us all about their adventures and shenanigans, which made my news of; "Um..... I joined a gym..... aaaaaaaaaand...... may possibly have another barmaid job....." sound extremely lame beyond measure.
Anyway, the adults eventually left, so I stayed online chatting to Shaun for another hour. And when I say chatting, I basically mean communicating the only way Shaun and I know how - staring at the webcam, pulling ridiculous faces at each other, quoting "Family Guy" ALL the time, singing random songs, having "cyber" dance-offs, and commentating on the film I could hear playing in the background - all the way around the world at 10 in the morning THEIR time. That made my head hurt, I can tell you. God, I miss my baby bro.
After he left, I, filled with Must-Use-Newborn-Webcam-To-Full-Potential syndrome chatted online to Lisa for ages - got ridiculously excited about Oxford trip, the webcam, what she's up to for Valentine's Day, the webcam, the gym, using and abusing the webcam and playing Toast Roulette (yes it IS as fun as it sounds - boy do I know how to have a craaazy Thursday night!).
Didn't do much of anything today, really. Gave the gym a miss due to aching limbs (so four-hour workout tomorrow, then), worked some more on my script, and cooked tea. Herby sausage in tomato/garlic sauce and spaghetti, y'all. Shame I always mis-judge the spaghetti, freak out, and end up doing enough to feed Kate Moennig for a decade. No nastiness intended - I think she's hot.
GOOD NEWS FOR THE DAY - Julie (Marie's Landlady) rang me! At 10 oclock this morning! Thank the LAWD I was awake - thanks to being disgruntled-ly dragged out of bed by the laptop/Skype ringing (Shaun again). Anyhow, she wants me to go in tomorrow for a trial shift, 5 in the evening till 1 in the morning!!! I didn't even have an interview! YEAH, BITCH!!! And according to Marie, you get paid CASH IN MOTHERHUMPING HAND. So that's a extra £40 (AT LEAST!) to take to Oxford next week! This couldn't possibly have gone any better if I'd planned it myself.
Better be off now, anyway. Work beckons!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: full
Current Music: "Automatic High" - S Club Juniors. It's stuck in my head. No, I'm not proud.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
MGM - More Gymnasia Musings.....
Dear Diary,
Man, I can't take anymore of these motherfricking aches and pains. Everytime I move, a little bit piece of my upper body dies inside..... FOREVER. Although have startled myself by actually going to the gym 3 days on the trot, as opposed to trying it once and giving the hell up. I'm aware that I sound like one of those annoying people who go on about the gym all the time, but frankly...... I AM. Well, what else can I tell you about? I'm still broke, still single, and today I made tea! Not that interesting really, eh? (For those actually interested, tea was Rosemary and Garlic chicken wraps, with weight-watcher chips and rocket salad. Fine-ass, if I do say so)
THINGS I LOVE ABOUT THE GYM:
I love music. I listen to it non-stop. But having an EXCUSE, and being in a place where EVERYONE does it - not to mention using it as a MOTIVATOR..... well, it's pretty sweet. It's like being in a silent disco! Only painful. But I digress.....
The endorphins. I never experienced or believed in them before, and now they've come into my life. Now if Orgasms could be next on the "Sent" list, I will be a happy bunny.
The fact that for these 28 days, I am walking in and using their health-making equipment FREE. FREE!! And there is NOTHING they can do about it!
Window-shopping the Fittie McVitties like there's no tomorrow.
Knowing that I'm not the only person there who needs to get a little weight off and goes slightly slower than other people. Makes you feel less intimidated.
Everyone staring at my chest (although, in retrospect, maybe my geeky "I Facebooked your Mum" t-shirt was to blame for that)
The smell of Listerine. YES.
The overwhelming feeling of joyous achievement when I actually use some equipment, not only properly, but at a quite good speed, and more often than not reach the optimum heart-rate for a serious Fat Burn.
Those occasional moments where I get so lost in thinking/counting/staring aimlessly round the room/window shopping/music listening, that I forget how much pain I'm in, and suddenly realise that my heart rate has reached it's target and I've burnt off more calories than I thought. Sweet.
The smell of fresh sweat/pharemones in the air. No wonder so many people pick up/get laid at the gym. It's so incredibly raw and ..... I don't know, PRIMAL. Yikes. Breathe.......
Every time I discover a piece of equipment I've not used yet, that works out a part of my body I've not bothered to work out yet. Stomach and arse firming? Don't mind if I do.
Having to shower every day. I always feel good after a shower, no matter WHAT. Why have I not done this before?
THINGS I HATE ABOUT THE GYM:
The sad fact that once this month's up, I can no longer afford to go again.
The background music/videos. I love Cry for You, but damn, change the record once in a while, PLEASE!
Having to stop and catch my breath/soothe my aching muscles whilst everyone around me ploughes on for 25 minutes straight.
Constantly sencond-guessing whether the men are actually as fit in real life, or only in gym-context.
My exercise face. Possibly the scariest thing anyone has ever seen. Not to mention I end up COMPLETELY red (apart from the area around my mouth, which stays curiously white) with mad hair, while everyone else looks calm, composed, and normal.
Having to hold my stomach in around the lads. Look, don't question it, it's just something I do. And no, I'm not proud.
Doing any exercise that involves running, walking, or climbing (whatever verb the pedometer makes you do) - the day after I've shaved. Take my advice, DON'T DO IT, people. We are talking unbe-fucking-LIEVABLE discomfort.
Being the only girl every time who wanders into the weight-lifting area. And getting paranoid wondering if the men think I'm weird, a lesbian, trying to impress, or all three. Well, my arms are just alarmingly bad, they need toning..... what can you do?
I sometimes forget to breathe properly and end up half-gasping out of my nose.
The disturbing sweat patches. And no, I'm not talking about the normal ones...... (*shudder*) I'm constantly terrified that someone will jump into the seat of a machine I've just vacated and look at me with DISGUST.
The constant fearful thoughts of "What if this doesn't actually do ANYTHING? Maybe none of it works after all.....?" whirling round my head.
The pain. I was led to believe that exercise gets easier everytime you go back to it. BULL. SHIT. It's been three days, it gets harder everytime and my body from the boobs up is still aching like a mother. And it won't go away with more exercise. Grrrrrrrrrr..........
Wrong underwear - Made this mistake yesterday and wore a gorgeous new underwear set (Christmas present). Well, all it provoked was a black lace on sweat scenario (not quite as sexy as you would be led to believe) madly bouncing boobs and extreme red marks on my shoulders. Girl boxers and gym bra it is, then. Except I don't own a gym bra (*frantically searches online*)
Having to wash my sweaty hair ever day. It gets kind of cloying.
Hmmm. Well, anyway. I'll be going tomorrow, sucker for punishment that I am. Not to mention I want to squeeze every last 28-day DROP out of this Mirror Deal.
Work tonight was nothing special. Was in agony everytime I reached for a glass - which are ALWAYS kept on the top shelf. Fun. Oh, but had some good news! Apparently the Landlady at Marie's pub has "taken a shine to me" (why? Cos I get ridiculously pissed and sleep with 40% of the punters??) - which doesn't happen with her too often, I was told. So, I got Marie to beg - I mean, ask - if there's any jobs going up there, to which she (Landlady) apparently replied; "Sounds good!" So I'm going in tomorrow to talk to her about it.
This is FANTASTIC!!! I may have another job! With more hours! I can afford the gym and be a proper person with money for a change! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: achey but chuffed
Current Music: "I Drive Alone" - Esthero
Man, I can't take anymore of these motherfricking aches and pains. Everytime I move, a little bit piece of my upper body dies inside..... FOREVER. Although have startled myself by actually going to the gym 3 days on the trot, as opposed to trying it once and giving the hell up. I'm aware that I sound like one of those annoying people who go on about the gym all the time, but frankly...... I AM. Well, what else can I tell you about? I'm still broke, still single, and today I made tea! Not that interesting really, eh? (For those actually interested, tea was Rosemary and Garlic chicken wraps, with weight-watcher chips and rocket salad. Fine-ass, if I do say so)
THINGS I LOVE ABOUT THE GYM:
I love music. I listen to it non-stop. But having an EXCUSE, and being in a place where EVERYONE does it - not to mention using it as a MOTIVATOR..... well, it's pretty sweet. It's like being in a silent disco! Only painful. But I digress.....
The endorphins. I never experienced or believed in them before, and now they've come into my life. Now if Orgasms could be next on the "Sent" list, I will be a happy bunny.
The fact that for these 28 days, I am walking in and using their health-making equipment FREE. FREE!! And there is NOTHING they can do about it!
Window-shopping the Fittie McVitties like there's no tomorrow.
Knowing that I'm not the only person there who needs to get a little weight off and goes slightly slower than other people. Makes you feel less intimidated.
Everyone staring at my chest (although, in retrospect, maybe my geeky "I Facebooked your Mum" t-shirt was to blame for that)
The smell of Listerine. YES.
The overwhelming feeling of joyous achievement when I actually use some equipment, not only properly, but at a quite good speed, and more often than not reach the optimum heart-rate for a serious Fat Burn.
Those occasional moments where I get so lost in thinking/counting/staring aimlessly round the room/window shopping/music listening, that I forget how much pain I'm in, and suddenly realise that my heart rate has reached it's target and I've burnt off more calories than I thought. Sweet.
The smell of fresh sweat/pharemones in the air. No wonder so many people pick up/get laid at the gym. It's so incredibly raw and ..... I don't know, PRIMAL. Yikes. Breathe.......
Every time I discover a piece of equipment I've not used yet, that works out a part of my body I've not bothered to work out yet. Stomach and arse firming? Don't mind if I do.
Having to shower every day. I always feel good after a shower, no matter WHAT. Why have I not done this before?
THINGS I HATE ABOUT THE GYM:
The sad fact that once this month's up, I can no longer afford to go again.
The background music/videos. I love Cry for You, but damn, change the record once in a while, PLEASE!
Having to stop and catch my breath/soothe my aching muscles whilst everyone around me ploughes on for 25 minutes straight.
Constantly sencond-guessing whether the men are actually as fit in real life, or only in gym-context.
My exercise face. Possibly the scariest thing anyone has ever seen. Not to mention I end up COMPLETELY red (apart from the area around my mouth, which stays curiously white) with mad hair, while everyone else looks calm, composed, and normal.
Having to hold my stomach in around the lads. Look, don't question it, it's just something I do. And no, I'm not proud.
Doing any exercise that involves running, walking, or climbing (whatever verb the pedometer makes you do) - the day after I've shaved. Take my advice, DON'T DO IT, people. We are talking unbe-fucking-LIEVABLE discomfort.
Being the only girl every time who wanders into the weight-lifting area. And getting paranoid wondering if the men think I'm weird, a lesbian, trying to impress, or all three. Well, my arms are just alarmingly bad, they need toning..... what can you do?
I sometimes forget to breathe properly and end up half-gasping out of my nose.
The disturbing sweat patches. And no, I'm not talking about the normal ones...... (*shudder*) I'm constantly terrified that someone will jump into the seat of a machine I've just vacated and look at me with DISGUST.
The constant fearful thoughts of "What if this doesn't actually do ANYTHING? Maybe none of it works after all.....?" whirling round my head.
The pain. I was led to believe that exercise gets easier everytime you go back to it. BULL. SHIT. It's been three days, it gets harder everytime and my body from the boobs up is still aching like a mother. And it won't go away with more exercise. Grrrrrrrrrr..........
Wrong underwear - Made this mistake yesterday and wore a gorgeous new underwear set (Christmas present). Well, all it provoked was a black lace on sweat scenario (not quite as sexy as you would be led to believe) madly bouncing boobs and extreme red marks on my shoulders. Girl boxers and gym bra it is, then. Except I don't own a gym bra (*frantically searches online*)
Having to wash my sweaty hair ever day. It gets kind of cloying.
Hmmm. Well, anyway. I'll be going tomorrow, sucker for punishment that I am. Not to mention I want to squeeze every last 28-day DROP out of this Mirror Deal.
Work tonight was nothing special. Was in agony everytime I reached for a glass - which are ALWAYS kept on the top shelf. Fun. Oh, but had some good news! Apparently the Landlady at Marie's pub has "taken a shine to me" (why? Cos I get ridiculously pissed and sleep with 40% of the punters??) - which doesn't happen with her too often, I was told. So, I got Marie to beg - I mean, ask - if there's any jobs going up there, to which she (Landlady) apparently replied; "Sounds good!" So I'm going in tomorrow to talk to her about it.
This is FANTASTIC!!! I may have another job! With more hours! I can afford the gym and be a proper person with money for a change! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: achey but chuffed
Current Music: "I Drive Alone" - Esthero
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Kat the Rampant Gym Bunny
Dear Diary,
Sweet Lord on a treadmill. You will literally not BELIEVE what I did yesterday. Mum's friend had saved me some tokens from the paper that give you free membership at the local gym for a MONTH. Now, normally, I'd laugh my arse off, thank said friend (secretly think "What are you insinuating?"), put the tokens in a drawer and think "Fuck THAT!" But for some mad and insane reason, this time I decided to bloody well follow something through for once. So, I printed off the membership card and went along with Mum.
Oh my god. It was AMAZING!! Not as big as some gyms, but there's SO MUCH to do. Met a lovely receptionist called Stephanie who said not to worry, everyone's at different levels of fitness in here and she'd show me around etc... Unfortunately, whilst I was in the middle of being reassured, there was an unnaturally Madonna-esque woman walking around with abs like a frigging WASHBOARD, so that made me feel good, of course. Anyway, decided there and then to go back that very evening to try it out, ease myself in, no pressure.....
Well, 2 hours later, there I was - in my joggers, a Guinness t-shirt and Mum's trainers (didn't think Converse were appropriate to work out in somehow) being shown around by Stephanie. Eventually dumped my stuff in a locker and got going. And it. Was. Fantastic. Felt less scared and self-concious than I thought I would, due to most of the women NOT being the stick-thin terrifying gym bunnies I expected, but normal women like me, just trying to lose some weight and get fit. Not to mention the men. Dear LAWD. Even those that weren't that attractive were somehow still attractive. Such is the power of muscles! And that's coming from somehow who likes skinny blokes, normally (*drifts into David Tennant-filled daydream*).
YESTERDAY AT THE GYM I:
Sweet Lord on a treadmill. You will literally not BELIEVE what I did yesterday. Mum's friend had saved me some tokens from the paper that give you free membership at the local gym for a MONTH. Now, normally, I'd laugh my arse off, thank said friend (secretly think "What are you insinuating?"), put the tokens in a drawer and think "Fuck THAT!" But for some mad and insane reason, this time I decided to bloody well follow something through for once. So, I printed off the membership card and went along with Mum.
Oh my god. It was AMAZING!! Not as big as some gyms, but there's SO MUCH to do. Met a lovely receptionist called Stephanie who said not to worry, everyone's at different levels of fitness in here and she'd show me around etc... Unfortunately, whilst I was in the middle of being reassured, there was an unnaturally Madonna-esque woman walking around with abs like a frigging WASHBOARD, so that made me feel good, of course. Anyway, decided there and then to go back that very evening to try it out, ease myself in, no pressure.....
Well, 2 hours later, there I was - in my joggers, a Guinness t-shirt and Mum's trainers (didn't think Converse were appropriate to work out in somehow) being shown around by Stephanie. Eventually dumped my stuff in a locker and got going. And it. Was. Fantastic. Felt less scared and self-concious than I thought I would, due to most of the women NOT being the stick-thin terrifying gym bunnies I expected, but normal women like me, just trying to lose some weight and get fit. Not to mention the men. Dear LAWD. Even those that weren't that attractive were somehow still attractive. Such is the power of muscles! And that's coming from somehow who likes skinny blokes, normally (*drifts into David Tennant-filled daydream*).
YESTERDAY AT THE GYM I:
- Went on the Pedometer
- Did that weird thing where you pull weights in towards yourself with your arms and increase the pecs (I think)
- Went on the "Sexualiser" (OK, it's not really called that) - that thing where you push weights away from yourself using your thighs alone, so your legs are continuously open and you feel constantly undignified.
- Went on the rowing machine (which was surprisingly relaxing after the bloody weight-lifting equipment)
- Went on two cycling machines. Although I only went on the 2nd one after I cracked my knee on the 1st and then got the seat stuck trying to move it back
- Eye-humped the SHIT out of all the cute lads - in particular the one whose eye I kept catching whilst on the bike in front of his treadmill. Although I think the only reason he kept smiling was due to all the weird facial expressions I was making everytime I cracked my knee/wiped off sweat/grimaced/tripped over my joggers/etc...
So, I stayed for 2 hours (despite Stephanie saying I should only attempt 45 minutes on my first day) and had an absolute BALL listening to my Ipod - which definately helped me establish a rhythm. Hugged Mum to DEATH when she picked me up, thanking her over and over again for putting the idea in my head. Definately going every day, if possible.
Went out for usual Monday night jaunt with Marie, although I arrived 3 hours late due to Shaun webcam/calling us online, which was cool, if not a MASSIVE delay. He's doing great, anyway, if the photos are anything to go by. Night out was..... hmmm..... Once again Marie was like a broken record, mentioning her Twattish Boyfriend every single oppurtunity she physically could. I have NO problem being a shoulder to cry on and an ear to lend, but she really is starting to get a little bit incredibly annoying now. Ah well, we ordered a pizza and watched "Castaway" back at hers, so it could've gone a lot worse, really. Although I woke up this morning with my boobs, shoulders and pecs absolutely MURDERING me. The pain is so extreme, I can barely lift my arms. Hmmm..... No weight-lifting for a while, methinks......
Anyway, I'm off, going to the gym later. Wow, look at me, saying that like a totally normal person! Maybe things are looking up! Maybe by some miracle I'll actually go thin and get fit and healthy after all, and just be like the rest of the gym-going population! It could be my THING! I could say things like "I'll be round at 8, I've got to go to the gym!" This is BRILLIANT!!! Maybe now things will fall into place! Maybe everything's going to be alright after all!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: ridiculously optimistic
Current Music: "Shine" - Take That
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Random Days
Dear Diary,
Not been a bad few days, all told. Well, I've still only got one job, but had a surprise visit, parents haven't bickered properly for a while, got some paid work and found a very interesting website! But I'll start at the beginning.......
FRIDAY
So, leaving off from last entry, I dragged myself into work, with a sore head and strange ears. Endured several bouts of piss-taking re: last night's epic bender, whilst mostly keeping my head down and drinking water. Apparently I arranged to meet the lad from last night "in here at 7. When I start work." What the HELL??! I don't start till half 8! Damn, I must have been OUT of it. Mind you, so was he on Friday - I walked in to see him sat with his mates in the corner. And when I say "sat," I mean "slumped over, asleep." It turns out he'd been on a 2-day bender and lost £170 gambling that very afternoon. Wow - I sure can pick them, eh?
Got the biggest surprise about 9 oclock though, when LISA walked in!! I literally stood there gawping, before everything caught up with me in a big rush (possibly accompanied by that flashback sound effect in "Lost") and a sudden memory permeated that haze of hangover-ness...... she was back for the weekend!! Was very ashamed to have forgotten, but thrilled to see both her and Mike (who you may remember as her boyfriend). Managed to skive off a ridiculously large amount to chat - we discussed my imminent visit to Oxford and what we're going to do (I'm going to eat in the Harry Potter hall!! Yeah, bitch!), what they've been up to Up North so far, etc...
Endured MORE piss-taking about last night's session (why aren't people looking at the mitigating circumstances?? There were LOADS!!), I pointed out the infamous Little Dickhead - who seemed to have learnt his lesson about saying things that make me want to punch him in the eye - to which Lisa replied; "Him? But he looks about FORTY!" Naturally, I looked back and realised she was right. How had I never NOTICED?! Eeek. He HAS had a haircut recently - some men just don't suit shaved hair. Shaun's a prime example, who, incidentally, hasn't sent us a single email, while his mate's sent about 6 since landing in Fiji. Prick.
Landlady dropped an enormous bombshell - she's having to lose some hours due to credit crunch and all. Guess who's hours are getting lost? Needless to say, this means I'll be working 4 hours a week. FOUR. Hours. A WEEK. I am fucked beyond all measure.
SATURDAY
Not much happened today. Had the house to myself pretty much all day, while parents worked. We got a Chinese takeaway and watched the rugby and "Not Going Out" together - which was pretty cool since I can't remember the last time we really hung out for that long. Plus Mum drank almost an entire bottle of wine, so that was pretty funny. Did some writing and laughed my absolute TITS off at "Scary Movie" - I always forget just how genius that film is. Yes, everyone slags them off, but they observe scary films so fantastically well. The best example is the scene where Cindy looks out the window to see the killer stood staring at her, outside. She looks away in terror. Now, in any real horror film, she'd look back and the killer would simply be GONE. But in Spoof-land, the killer just turns and legs it off screen. UTTER. BRILLIANCE.
TODAY
Today was good - helped Mum prepare a buffet at the cafe' and got paid £30 for it. And got to basically listen to my Ipod whilst doing all my jobs - and got a MacDonald's breakfast AND lunch ON EXPENSE!! Pretty sweet, eh? So, parents are just off out to a friend's for tea - which means I get one of those much-coveted evenings alone in the house.
Plan for tonight:
Eat Mussells
Watch "Lost"
Watch "The L Word"
Watch Russell Brand do stand-up
Have a big sexy bath
Try and find out Lee's address for Valentine's Card (before bottling it anyway)
Wander aimlessly round the house singing along to my Ipod
Do some writing
Oh yeah, forgot to mention - I found the most AMAZING website, BBC Writer's Room. It is, in a word, OUTSTANDING!!! They accept ANY script you send them, and some of them even give you the chance to win anything from a cash prize to work experience on Radio 4, to a slot in the Edinburugh Festival. And they give you millions of tips on how to format each script, and rules to follow, etc... Seriously, just look on that link, it is simply incredible. I have a very strong feeling that this could be my big chance - I've spent all weekend typing like a mother and frantically turning my stage play into a TV drama, tweaking my short film, and coming up with a bright idea for a TV sitcom. It's taking ages, but the deadline's not for a few weeks. This is BRILLIANT!!!!
Oh, crap. Marie's just phoned - she's sat alone in the pub near hers, having "realised how much of a mug" she is. Jesus, what now? Maybe she's figured out how much of a Twat her fella is. Or he's done something to upset her. Grrrr..... What a cock. Anyway, she claimed she was "going to get really pissed" and sounded close to tears, so naturally, I'm on my way over. There goes my lovely night in.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: annoyed at not being allowed to simply chill
Current Music: That infernal Sky Plus "Sky Planner" lift music
Not been a bad few days, all told. Well, I've still only got one job, but had a surprise visit, parents haven't bickered properly for a while, got some paid work and found a very interesting website! But I'll start at the beginning.......
FRIDAY
So, leaving off from last entry, I dragged myself into work, with a sore head and strange ears. Endured several bouts of piss-taking re: last night's epic bender, whilst mostly keeping my head down and drinking water. Apparently I arranged to meet the lad from last night "in here at 7. When I start work." What the HELL??! I don't start till half 8! Damn, I must have been OUT of it. Mind you, so was he on Friday - I walked in to see him sat with his mates in the corner. And when I say "sat," I mean "slumped over, asleep." It turns out he'd been on a 2-day bender and lost £170 gambling that very afternoon. Wow - I sure can pick them, eh?
Got the biggest surprise about 9 oclock though, when LISA walked in!! I literally stood there gawping, before everything caught up with me in a big rush (possibly accompanied by that flashback sound effect in "Lost") and a sudden memory permeated that haze of hangover-ness...... she was back for the weekend!! Was very ashamed to have forgotten, but thrilled to see both her and Mike (who you may remember as her boyfriend). Managed to skive off a ridiculously large amount to chat - we discussed my imminent visit to Oxford and what we're going to do (I'm going to eat in the Harry Potter hall!! Yeah, bitch!), what they've been up to Up North so far, etc...
Endured MORE piss-taking about last night's session (why aren't people looking at the mitigating circumstances?? There were LOADS!!), I pointed out the infamous Little Dickhead - who seemed to have learnt his lesson about saying things that make me want to punch him in the eye - to which Lisa replied; "Him? But he looks about FORTY!" Naturally, I looked back and realised she was right. How had I never NOTICED?! Eeek. He HAS had a haircut recently - some men just don't suit shaved hair. Shaun's a prime example, who, incidentally, hasn't sent us a single email, while his mate's sent about 6 since landing in Fiji. Prick.
Landlady dropped an enormous bombshell - she's having to lose some hours due to credit crunch and all. Guess who's hours are getting lost? Needless to say, this means I'll be working 4 hours a week. FOUR. Hours. A WEEK. I am fucked beyond all measure.
SATURDAY
Not much happened today. Had the house to myself pretty much all day, while parents worked. We got a Chinese takeaway and watched the rugby and "Not Going Out" together - which was pretty cool since I can't remember the last time we really hung out for that long. Plus Mum drank almost an entire bottle of wine, so that was pretty funny. Did some writing and laughed my absolute TITS off at "Scary Movie" - I always forget just how genius that film is. Yes, everyone slags them off, but they observe scary films so fantastically well. The best example is the scene where Cindy looks out the window to see the killer stood staring at her, outside. She looks away in terror. Now, in any real horror film, she'd look back and the killer would simply be GONE. But in Spoof-land, the killer just turns and legs it off screen. UTTER. BRILLIANCE.
TODAY
Today was good - helped Mum prepare a buffet at the cafe' and got paid £30 for it. And got to basically listen to my Ipod whilst doing all my jobs - and got a MacDonald's breakfast AND lunch ON EXPENSE!! Pretty sweet, eh? So, parents are just off out to a friend's for tea - which means I get one of those much-coveted evenings alone in the house.
Plan for tonight:
Eat Mussells
Watch "Lost"
Watch "The L Word"
Watch Russell Brand do stand-up
Have a big sexy bath
Try and find out Lee's address for Valentine's Card (before bottling it anyway)
Wander aimlessly round the house singing along to my Ipod
Do some writing
Oh yeah, forgot to mention - I found the most AMAZING website, BBC Writer's Room. It is, in a word, OUTSTANDING!!! They accept ANY script you send them, and some of them even give you the chance to win anything from a cash prize to work experience on Radio 4, to a slot in the Edinburugh Festival. And they give you millions of tips on how to format each script, and rules to follow, etc... Seriously, just look on that link, it is simply incredible. I have a very strong feeling that this could be my big chance - I've spent all weekend typing like a mother and frantically turning my stage play into a TV drama, tweaking my short film, and coming up with a bright idea for a TV sitcom. It's taking ages, but the deadline's not for a few weeks. This is BRILLIANT!!!!
Oh, crap. Marie's just phoned - she's sat alone in the pub near hers, having "realised how much of a mug" she is. Jesus, what now? Maybe she's figured out how much of a Twat her fella is. Or he's done something to upset her. Grrrr..... What a cock. Anyway, she claimed she was "going to get really pissed" and sounded close to tears, so naturally, I'm on my way over. There goes my lovely night in.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: annoyed at not being allowed to simply chill
Current Music: That infernal Sky Plus "Sky Planner" lift music
Friday, 6 February 2009
Bad times.....
Dear Diary,
Today finds me in a bit of a sorry state. Woke up yesterday in a completely depressed and lethargic mood - due to the date. I'll just say, exactly one year ago, something happened to me that rhymes with "getting thumped" - and the fact that he's still with that skinny dwarf slag of Satan hurt even more. So I decided to do the adult thing, and proceeded to get completely, inordinately PISSED. Which I wouldn't normally be ashamed about, except I did it on my own, and I started at 3:30 in the afternoon. Yikes.
Still, as Jez from "Peep Show" once said - "Drinking alone, what's the big deal? Why is it necessarily a bad thing? If you drink a bottle of vodka and there's a bloke sitting next to you, does that somehow make it alright?"
So after half an hour alternating between giggling hysterically and nearly being sick at "Jamie Saves our Bacon", I decided to do something about my chronic unemployment. So I went down to the job centre, which, in retrospect, probably wasn't a good idea with 3 double vodka and oranges inside myself. Didn't matter anyway, the man at the "Help" desk was about as useful as a chastity belt on Russell Brand. Stormed out of the JobCentre with about 8000 leaflets, fuming, stared at by all the chavs in trakkies. I'm not even generalising, they really all were wearing trakkies.
Didn't feel like going home, so headed off to the Pub. Thank God for always knowing at least ONE person in there. Liz was naturally very surprised to see me, as were the Landlady and Landlord. Well, busman's holiday and all. I proceeded to get ridiculously drunk, telling everyone about Aaron and the JobCentre, all the while realising I sounded like one of those pissed women who always come in and share their life stories...... Eek.
Had a few games of Pool with a cute lad who gave me his number and arranged to meet me later. Bounced home for some tea, which I was supposed to be cooking, oops. Surprisingly, Mum wasn't even mad, she just sat and snickered at me as I wolfed down my tea and apparently "slurred" everything I said (which I still deny). Decided to go for a lie-down, which was quite worrying, as I don't normally crash out that fast whilst drinking. Had a little sleep and eventually went back down to the Pub at half 9 - despite Dad's reaction "Are you serious? You're going back OUT?? Is that really a good idea?" Hehe.
Got back to the pub. Naturally, he didn't show up, but I buried the hatchet with Pat, thank goodness, and faced off against the Landlady in a game of Pool. And when I say "face-offed" I mean, "she absolutely bitch-whipped me." Staggered home with a Seafood pizza, listening to "The Promise" on repeat, and trying not to think about Aaron. Sat up and watched "Thir13en Ghosts," munching away, making all kinds of resolutions in my head.
Then Kyle came online. Had a fun ten minutes catching up and arranging to meet, before he brought up bumping into Zara and co. at a bar - and I quote: "You really shot her to shit, hey?" Eeep. She's clearly still furious at me (why not Gary as well?? It was just as much his fault!) and still billing me for the sink. Well fair do's, but she said that 4 months ago, why hasn't she done it yet? Anyway. I've written a long letter and will be posting it as soon as I can affrd packaging on her birthday present, which I'm sending with it, since I wasn't invited to her shindig. Went to bed and had a little cry, thinking all about what a shit friend (and girlfriend, clearly) I've been. Then had a repeat episode of when I was so wasted I just tossed and turned for hours, without sleeping. So that was fun. Even fetching a glass of water felt trippy and life-threatening-ly treatcherous.
Woke up at 7am after about 35 minutes of sleep, and spent all day on the sofa, under my duvet with the curtains drawn, watching "Family Guy." Well, apart from 2 hours when I fell asleep, and a trip out to Subway. Which, for the first time ever, FAILED me as a hangover cure. What the hell has gone WRONG with the world???!
Aaaaaaaanyway. Mum came home, laughing at my antics last night and taking the piss. I cooked tea (fish and chips. Masterful, eh?) and had a shower, which made me feel less like a piss-stained dishcloth. Got work in a bit actually, so will have to dash.
Current Mood: low, but really clean
Current Music: "Love Rollercoaster" - The Chillies
Today finds me in a bit of a sorry state. Woke up yesterday in a completely depressed and lethargic mood - due to the date. I'll just say, exactly one year ago, something happened to me that rhymes with "getting thumped" - and the fact that he's still with that skinny dwarf slag of Satan hurt even more. So I decided to do the adult thing, and proceeded to get completely, inordinately PISSED. Which I wouldn't normally be ashamed about, except I did it on my own, and I started at 3:30 in the afternoon. Yikes.
Still, as Jez from "Peep Show" once said - "Drinking alone, what's the big deal? Why is it necessarily a bad thing? If you drink a bottle of vodka and there's a bloke sitting next to you, does that somehow make it alright?"
So after half an hour alternating between giggling hysterically and nearly being sick at "Jamie Saves our Bacon", I decided to do something about my chronic unemployment. So I went down to the job centre, which, in retrospect, probably wasn't a good idea with 3 double vodka and oranges inside myself. Didn't matter anyway, the man at the "Help" desk was about as useful as a chastity belt on Russell Brand. Stormed out of the JobCentre with about 8000 leaflets, fuming, stared at by all the chavs in trakkies. I'm not even generalising, they really all were wearing trakkies.
Didn't feel like going home, so headed off to the Pub. Thank God for always knowing at least ONE person in there. Liz was naturally very surprised to see me, as were the Landlady and Landlord. Well, busman's holiday and all. I proceeded to get ridiculously drunk, telling everyone about Aaron and the JobCentre, all the while realising I sounded like one of those pissed women who always come in and share their life stories...... Eek.
Had a few games of Pool with a cute lad who gave me his number and arranged to meet me later. Bounced home for some tea, which I was supposed to be cooking, oops. Surprisingly, Mum wasn't even mad, she just sat and snickered at me as I wolfed down my tea and apparently "slurred" everything I said (which I still deny). Decided to go for a lie-down, which was quite worrying, as I don't normally crash out that fast whilst drinking. Had a little sleep and eventually went back down to the Pub at half 9 - despite Dad's reaction "Are you serious? You're going back OUT?? Is that really a good idea?" Hehe.
Got back to the pub. Naturally, he didn't show up, but I buried the hatchet with Pat, thank goodness, and faced off against the Landlady in a game of Pool. And when I say "face-offed" I mean, "she absolutely bitch-whipped me." Staggered home with a Seafood pizza, listening to "The Promise" on repeat, and trying not to think about Aaron. Sat up and watched "Thir13en Ghosts," munching away, making all kinds of resolutions in my head.
Then Kyle came online. Had a fun ten minutes catching up and arranging to meet, before he brought up bumping into Zara and co. at a bar - and I quote: "You really shot her to shit, hey?" Eeep. She's clearly still furious at me (why not Gary as well?? It was just as much his fault!) and still billing me for the sink. Well fair do's, but she said that 4 months ago, why hasn't she done it yet? Anyway. I've written a long letter and will be posting it as soon as I can affrd packaging on her birthday present, which I'm sending with it, since I wasn't invited to her shindig. Went to bed and had a little cry, thinking all about what a shit friend (and girlfriend, clearly) I've been. Then had a repeat episode of when I was so wasted I just tossed and turned for hours, without sleeping. So that was fun. Even fetching a glass of water felt trippy and life-threatening-ly treatcherous.
Woke up at 7am after about 35 minutes of sleep, and spent all day on the sofa, under my duvet with the curtains drawn, watching "Family Guy." Well, apart from 2 hours when I fell asleep, and a trip out to Subway. Which, for the first time ever, FAILED me as a hangover cure. What the hell has gone WRONG with the world???!
Aaaaaaaanyway. Mum came home, laughing at my antics last night and taking the piss. I cooked tea (fish and chips. Masterful, eh?) and had a shower, which made me feel less like a piss-stained dishcloth. Got work in a bit actually, so will have to dash.
Current Mood: low, but really clean
Current Music: "Love Rollercoaster" - The Chillies
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Pub woes - yet again
Dear Diary,
Well, I've done it again. There is now ANOTHER angry old man at the pub who hates me and doesn't want me to serve them ever again. Gosh, I'm getting bad at this. It was Irish Paul - who stands at the end of the bar, and I've known since my first shift. I came on my shift, only to smell some kinda revolting burning wood smell, which he explained was the turps all over his hands. So, throughout the next two hours, I kept jokingly coming back and commenting on it, eventually (jokingly) begging him to "wash his hands, cos I felt ill." So - a few minutes later, Landlandy comes downstairs and immediately asks why I've been offending the customers. What?? Turns out I'd inadvertantly annoyed Irish Paul with all my comments. Fuck's sake. So I went to straighten things out:
ME: "Um..... Paul?"
IP: "What?"
ME: "Listen, I've just had a word with the Landlady and she says I've upset you somehow - look, I hope you understand, I wasn't trying to offend you or upset you before, I was only...."
IP: "Look, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Whatever your name is, you're nothing but a rude, rude girl...."
ME: "Wha....? But....."
IP: "You do this ALL the time, you always find some reason to start on at me, and you've been doing it all night, jumping down my throat every 5 minutes...."
ME: "What? Paul, listen, I don't have a problem with you...."
IP: "Well, I've got a problem with YOU."
ME: "Now, hang on....."
IP: "No. I'm fucking sick of it. You've got absolutely no respect....."
ME: "Paul, I was JOKING. I seriously wasn't trying to offend you, I was only joking with you...."
IP: "I don't want to hear it. I don't need to be told I smell by some pissy little barmaid...."
ME: (*hysterically*) "Paul! Paul, I never for a SECOND said that you smelt, I said it was the TURPS! You TOLD me you had turps on your hands, that's all I was referring to!!"
IP: "I'm fed up with you!"
ME: "The..... turps!"
IP: "I don't need this anymore. I won't be coming in when you're here, and I don't want to be served by you again."
ME: "But..... I...... what? (*friendly*) Oh come on, Paul, it doesn't need to go this far!"
IP: "Well it already has, so I suggest you piss off away from me, because I don't want you to talk to me again."
ME: (*utterly speechless*)
Can you fucking believe that??! What a nasty cunt! Was very different to the Pat saga - where I gave as good as I got and swore my tits off - this time I just stood there talking very high pitchedly like a confused little girl and looking hurt. Naturally, the whole pub (well, the 5 men at the other end of the bar) went dead quiet and started listening, and were witness to my eventual walk of shame. So, that was fun. Walked round the corner where the Landlord took one look at my face and asked what was wrong. I only managed to choke out "I tried to apologise......." before the tear-wave broke, and he sent me to the back room to calm down. Landlady came in and tried to reassure me it wasn't a big deal, whilst I went through the 5 stages I usually go through whilst crying:
STAGE 1, DENIAL - "Oh hey...... no, I'm not crying, (*sniffle*) there's just....... something in both my eyes.... and I've gone red. Perfectly normal......."
STAGE 2, DEPRESSION - "God, I might as well just quit now, (*sob*) I'm so bloody bad at this, I'm the worst barmaid ever, everyone's always falling out with me, I should just jack it all in....."
STAGE 3, BARGAINING - "Well, maybe the customer ISN'T always right..... Yeah, he HAD had a lot to drink..... And at least I TRIED to apologize......."
STAGE 4, ANGER - (*flinging arms around*) "You know what? I am so fucking SICK of walking on eggshells around bitter old men who can't take a fucking joke around here!!!"
STAGE 5, ACCEPTANCE - 5 minutes in the loo with my make-up bag, and I was right as Rain. Rain with very dramatic eye make-up.
Landlady was surprisingly understanding. I apologised for acting like such a girl, at which she assured me that this was never an easy job, and I'm not the first person to be upset by someone. So that eventually sorted itself out, and now I'm back to feeling my usual mixture of fury, disbelief, confusion, and a hint of "fuck you, you're just annoyed because you're a pathetic alcoholic who'll probably die before me."
Jesus. That place turns me into such a bitch. If I wasn't so desperately poor, I'd have left by now. (Mind you, I found out yesterday that people with only one job and less than a certain number of hours a week can apply for the dole. Free money, and they HELP you find work!! Sweet!)
On the upside - the people who witnessed the fight tipped me loads (maybe out of pity? My eyes WERE pretty obviously red afterwards) all night, and Pat seems to be talking to me again. Well, I mean, he let me serve him and called me "Chucks" - which was his old nickname for me. Take the good with the bad!
Plus, I'm developing an alarming attraction to a 40 year-old punter. Is that wrong.......? He's called Ben, comes in quite often with his mate, they always drink the same, and play pool. He's one of those lovely, intelligent-but-friendly-looking types, with those archetypal "sensual artist" hands, and a sweet arse. And he's one of those men who looks like he could be anywhere between 26 and 45. Mmmmmm....... He's pretty quiet and only speaks every so often, but I'm always smiling like crazy at him. And he tips. And smiles back. Well, he has no wedding ring, I can but dream! Especially since he looks like one of those quiet, unsuspecting types who are always absolutely crazy in bed and would probably take you roughly against a wall somewhere....... whilst still being all touchy and sensitive. Eeeeep. Must. Calm. Down.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: irritated
Current Music: "She's Madonna" - Robbie Williams
Well, I've done it again. There is now ANOTHER angry old man at the pub who hates me and doesn't want me to serve them ever again. Gosh, I'm getting bad at this. It was Irish Paul - who stands at the end of the bar, and I've known since my first shift. I came on my shift, only to smell some kinda revolting burning wood smell, which he explained was the turps all over his hands. So, throughout the next two hours, I kept jokingly coming back and commenting on it, eventually (jokingly) begging him to "wash his hands, cos I felt ill." So - a few minutes later, Landlandy comes downstairs and immediately asks why I've been offending the customers. What?? Turns out I'd inadvertantly annoyed Irish Paul with all my comments. Fuck's sake. So I went to straighten things out:
ME: "Um..... Paul?"
IP: "What?"
ME: "Listen, I've just had a word with the Landlady and she says I've upset you somehow - look, I hope you understand, I wasn't trying to offend you or upset you before, I was only...."
IP: "Look, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Whatever your name is, you're nothing but a rude, rude girl...."
ME: "Wha....? But....."
IP: "You do this ALL the time, you always find some reason to start on at me, and you've been doing it all night, jumping down my throat every 5 minutes...."
ME: "What? Paul, listen, I don't have a problem with you...."
IP: "Well, I've got a problem with YOU."
ME: "Now, hang on....."
IP: "No. I'm fucking sick of it. You've got absolutely no respect....."
ME: "Paul, I was JOKING. I seriously wasn't trying to offend you, I was only joking with you...."
IP: "I don't want to hear it. I don't need to be told I smell by some pissy little barmaid...."
ME: (*hysterically*) "Paul! Paul, I never for a SECOND said that you smelt, I said it was the TURPS! You TOLD me you had turps on your hands, that's all I was referring to!!"
IP: "I'm fed up with you!"
ME: "The..... turps!"
IP: "I don't need this anymore. I won't be coming in when you're here, and I don't want to be served by you again."
ME: "But..... I...... what? (*friendly*) Oh come on, Paul, it doesn't need to go this far!"
IP: "Well it already has, so I suggest you piss off away from me, because I don't want you to talk to me again."
ME: (*utterly speechless*)
Can you fucking believe that??! What a nasty cunt! Was very different to the Pat saga - where I gave as good as I got and swore my tits off - this time I just stood there talking very high pitchedly like a confused little girl and looking hurt. Naturally, the whole pub (well, the 5 men at the other end of the bar) went dead quiet and started listening, and were witness to my eventual walk of shame. So, that was fun. Walked round the corner where the Landlord took one look at my face and asked what was wrong. I only managed to choke out "I tried to apologise......." before the tear-wave broke, and he sent me to the back room to calm down. Landlady came in and tried to reassure me it wasn't a big deal, whilst I went through the 5 stages I usually go through whilst crying:
STAGE 1, DENIAL - "Oh hey...... no, I'm not crying, (*sniffle*) there's just....... something in both my eyes.... and I've gone red. Perfectly normal......."
STAGE 2, DEPRESSION - "God, I might as well just quit now, (*sob*) I'm so bloody bad at this, I'm the worst barmaid ever, everyone's always falling out with me, I should just jack it all in....."
STAGE 3, BARGAINING - "Well, maybe the customer ISN'T always right..... Yeah, he HAD had a lot to drink..... And at least I TRIED to apologize......."
STAGE 4, ANGER - (*flinging arms around*) "You know what? I am so fucking SICK of walking on eggshells around bitter old men who can't take a fucking joke around here!!!"
STAGE 5, ACCEPTANCE - 5 minutes in the loo with my make-up bag, and I was right as Rain. Rain with very dramatic eye make-up.
Landlady was surprisingly understanding. I apologised for acting like such a girl, at which she assured me that this was never an easy job, and I'm not the first person to be upset by someone. So that eventually sorted itself out, and now I'm back to feeling my usual mixture of fury, disbelief, confusion, and a hint of "fuck you, you're just annoyed because you're a pathetic alcoholic who'll probably die before me."
Jesus. That place turns me into such a bitch. If I wasn't so desperately poor, I'd have left by now. (Mind you, I found out yesterday that people with only one job and less than a certain number of hours a week can apply for the dole. Free money, and they HELP you find work!! Sweet!)
On the upside - the people who witnessed the fight tipped me loads (maybe out of pity? My eyes WERE pretty obviously red afterwards) all night, and Pat seems to be talking to me again. Well, I mean, he let me serve him and called me "Chucks" - which was his old nickname for me. Take the good with the bad!
Plus, I'm developing an alarming attraction to a 40 year-old punter. Is that wrong.......? He's called Ben, comes in quite often with his mate, they always drink the same, and play pool. He's one of those lovely, intelligent-but-friendly-looking types, with those archetypal "sensual artist" hands, and a sweet arse. And he's one of those men who looks like he could be anywhere between 26 and 45. Mmmmmm....... He's pretty quiet and only speaks every so often, but I'm always smiling like crazy at him. And he tips. And smiles back. Well, he has no wedding ring, I can but dream! Especially since he looks like one of those quiet, unsuspecting types who are always absolutely crazy in bed and would probably take you roughly against a wall somewhere....... whilst still being all touchy and sensitive. Eeeeep. Must. Calm. Down.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: irritated
Current Music: "She's Madonna" - Robbie Williams
Some kinda wonderful
Dear Diary,
There is only one thing that has inspired me to do a blog today. On this most ordinary, boring and routine of days, there is but one reason that has made me want to type anything.
Do you know what it is?
No, of course you don't - because you are not me, and therefore have no idea.
DO YOU WANT TO KNOW???!
Well here it is ........................ LEE HAS FINALLY ARRIVED ON FACEBOOK AND BECOME MY FRIEND!!!! YEAH, BITCH!!!!
And despite all the underlying thoughts at the back of my mind asking me just HOW sad I have to be to find something like this exciting - my reaction upon finding out 5 minutes ago was to actually jump about a foot off the bed, gasp, and start squeaking. Actually squeaking. What a ridiculous parody of a woman I am......But still - now I can look at all his photos without feeling like I'm doing something illegal! And talk to him like a lovely friend making friendly small talk and asking what he's up to and how he's doing when really all I'm actually thinking about is what's under his suit and whether I'll ever in this lifetime get to see it regardless of whether or not he may actually have a girlfriend! Oh, this is SWEET!!!!
As Bart Simpson once said - "The only thing you can do at a moment like this.... is STRUT."
TOP 10 SONGS TO STRUT TO:
10) "Macarena" - Los del Rios. Yeah, OK, not really your average strut-fest, that's just one of my personal favourites. What? It has a kind of strutty baseline!
9) "Sex Machine" - James Brown. Can't beat a bit of funk.
8) "Here come the girls" - Sugababes. OK, it's a little bit TOO "we are independant women" etc.... but still struttable. Especially on a night out.
7) "Buttons" - Pussycat Dolls. Yeah, I may not like the idea of them, but the Dolls made me wanna strut my way through every shift at the cocktail bar with this one.
6) "A fifth of Beethoven" - Walter Murphy and the Big Apple Band. Like a Bee Gees song, but without lyrics.
5) "Big Wheel" - Tori Amos. Kicking ARSE. With a piano. Who else can do that??
4) "Billie Jean" - Michael Jackson. Goes without saying.
3) "Mustang Sally" - Tom Jones. The Jones will ALWAYS rule. Plus, you can practise your Miss-Congeniality-transformed-through-wearing-a-dress-made-of-rubber-bands strut
2) "I'm your boogie man" - KC and the Sunshine Band. Disco CLASSIC. If you've seen "Superbad" you just KNOW it's a song to be strutted to.
1) "Staying Alive" - Bee Gees. Again, goes without saying. This song (and the video) INVENTED strutting. And who could forget this?
I'm gonna put them on my Ipod when I walk to work later. Yes, that's incredibly daft, but come on, in these hazy days I've got to take my joy where I can find it!
Speaking of which, I had a crazy intense dream last night (well technically two, but I'm not talking about the one where I was Hermione in the 7th Harry Potter and I couldn't apparate myself and the 2 lads out of a museum in London all the way to Trafalger Square because I was too scared because Voldemort was minutes away and my powers wouldn't work).
I was at Kyle's house, which was somehow completely different from his usual one, we'd had a lot to drink, and ended up having one of our semi-occasional-pissed-up-fumblings-in-the-dark-despite-him-being-gay-and-us-being-best-friends episodes. Except this time it went a LOT further than usual (the usual being a lot of touching naughty places and boob exploration...... to be frank!). I ended up giving him head, but point-blank REFUSED to let him reciprocate due to an alarming downstairs situation. So, I dashed into his bathroom and attempted to quietly find a razor without arousing suspision, before he dragged me back out and we fell onto the bed kissing. Except I crossed the line from "amusing drunk kissing" to "alarmingly serious meaningful kissing" by stroking my hands up his back and wrapping my arms around him, etc..... which he reciprocated. (NB: At this point, the weirdest part of the dream was that it was night, but sun was streaming through the curtains - not that I was having a heavy session with my best friend. Strange!) Anyway, at this moment in real life, one of us would sober up, and we'd awkwardly go to sleep, but in the dream we went right onto having sex, which felt simply AMAZING and right. And pretty intense.
Woke up in a bit of a state, needless to say. God, I've missed Kyle. Not seen him since mid-December, maybe I should get back in touch.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: bouncier
Current Music: "Disco Inferno" - Bee Gees
There is only one thing that has inspired me to do a blog today. On this most ordinary, boring and routine of days, there is but one reason that has made me want to type anything.
Do you know what it is?
No, of course you don't - because you are not me, and therefore have no idea.
DO YOU WANT TO KNOW???!
Well here it is ........................ LEE HAS FINALLY ARRIVED ON FACEBOOK AND BECOME MY FRIEND!!!! YEAH, BITCH!!!!
And despite all the underlying thoughts at the back of my mind asking me just HOW sad I have to be to find something like this exciting - my reaction upon finding out 5 minutes ago was to actually jump about a foot off the bed, gasp, and start squeaking. Actually squeaking. What a ridiculous parody of a woman I am......But still - now I can look at all his photos without feeling like I'm doing something illegal! And talk to him like a lovely friend making friendly small talk and asking what he's up to and how he's doing when really all I'm actually thinking about is what's under his suit and whether I'll ever in this lifetime get to see it regardless of whether or not he may actually have a girlfriend! Oh, this is SWEET!!!!
As Bart Simpson once said - "The only thing you can do at a moment like this.... is STRUT."
TOP 10 SONGS TO STRUT TO:
10) "Macarena" - Los del Rios. Yeah, OK, not really your average strut-fest, that's just one of my personal favourites. What? It has a kind of strutty baseline!
9) "Sex Machine" - James Brown. Can't beat a bit of funk.
8) "Here come the girls" - Sugababes. OK, it's a little bit TOO "we are independant women" etc.... but still struttable. Especially on a night out.
7) "Buttons" - Pussycat Dolls. Yeah, I may not like the idea of them, but the Dolls made me wanna strut my way through every shift at the cocktail bar with this one.
6) "A fifth of Beethoven" - Walter Murphy and the Big Apple Band. Like a Bee Gees song, but without lyrics.
5) "Big Wheel" - Tori Amos. Kicking ARSE. With a piano. Who else can do that??
4) "Billie Jean" - Michael Jackson. Goes without saying.
3) "Mustang Sally" - Tom Jones. The Jones will ALWAYS rule. Plus, you can practise your Miss-Congeniality-transformed-through-wearing-a-dress-made-of-rubber-bands strut
2) "I'm your boogie man" - KC and the Sunshine Band. Disco CLASSIC. If you've seen "Superbad" you just KNOW it's a song to be strutted to.
1) "Staying Alive" - Bee Gees. Again, goes without saying. This song (and the video) INVENTED strutting. And who could forget this?
I'm gonna put them on my Ipod when I walk to work later. Yes, that's incredibly daft, but come on, in these hazy days I've got to take my joy where I can find it!
Speaking of which, I had a crazy intense dream last night (well technically two, but I'm not talking about the one where I was Hermione in the 7th Harry Potter and I couldn't apparate myself and the 2 lads out of a museum in London all the way to Trafalger Square because I was too scared because Voldemort was minutes away and my powers wouldn't work).
I was at Kyle's house, which was somehow completely different from his usual one, we'd had a lot to drink, and ended up having one of our semi-occasional-pissed-up-fumblings-in-the-dark-despite-him-being-gay-and-us-being-best-friends episodes. Except this time it went a LOT further than usual (the usual being a lot of touching naughty places and boob exploration...... to be frank!). I ended up giving him head, but point-blank REFUSED to let him reciprocate due to an alarming downstairs situation. So, I dashed into his bathroom and attempted to quietly find a razor without arousing suspision, before he dragged me back out and we fell onto the bed kissing. Except I crossed the line from "amusing drunk kissing" to "alarmingly serious meaningful kissing" by stroking my hands up his back and wrapping my arms around him, etc..... which he reciprocated. (NB: At this point, the weirdest part of the dream was that it was night, but sun was streaming through the curtains - not that I was having a heavy session with my best friend. Strange!) Anyway, at this moment in real life, one of us would sober up, and we'd awkwardly go to sleep, but in the dream we went right onto having sex, which felt simply AMAZING and right. And pretty intense.
Woke up in a bit of a state, needless to say. God, I've missed Kyle. Not seen him since mid-December, maybe I should get back in touch.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: bouncier
Current Music: "Disco Inferno" - Bee Gees
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Black holes and Revelations
Dear Diary,
Following the depressed-fest from earlier, things have looked up somewhat. If only slightly. Mum did one final "this is the last time I'll say this" speech before leaving me to it. After that we were both in that tentative, offering to help with cooking, making-jokes-and-smiling-a-lot-more-than-necessary mood when you're clearly being nice to make up for all the yelling earlier. Still, can't say I didn't enjoy it. I made tea after a 3-week hiatus - which, if I'm honest, was absolutely amazing. Tea, that is, not the hiatus. I'm back in the game!!
RECIPE OF THE DAY: LAMB BURGERS
Finely chop an onion, crush some garlic, crumble some Feta - slop it all in a big bowl with an egg white and a load of lamb mince, mash it all together, form burgers, and fry like a mother. Fantastic!
Had a spurt of inspiration afterwards, and retired back upstairs to read the Writer's Yearbook and start copying down every phone number of every newspaper and magazine in the region. Wrote an article about why Carrie Bradshaw is NOT a role model - which was basically me just bitching about why I don't like her. Surely there'll be a market for that kind of genre? Hmmm.
Had a nasty surprise a while ago upon checking Facebook, to discover that not only has Lee STILL not been online (where the fuck IS he, Mozambique??!) but David - DAVID - of the online flirting/sex talk who has not been laid since me and not had a relationship for like, 5 years, IS NOW SEEING SOMEONE. As in, actually in a relationship. I mean, what the fuck??! That's surely not fair!! For starters, that means someone else in the world apart from me is waking up to his outstanding snuggling, getting all his amazing moves and having sex with him every 25 minutes. And secondly, he was like, the Perpetually Single guy. He said he never WANTED a relationship!! The lying FUCKER!!! And now he's IN one??! What the fuck has HAPPENED to the world??! I bet she's really thin, or has something outstanding to reccomend her. Well, that's just dynamite. Why doesn't someone come and actually shit on my head, while they're at it? And in the meantime, throw the placenta of a newborn cow in my face and put arsenic in my drink? She must really be something goddamn special. Well fuck, David and I have a really good laugh, we're comfortable together, we have fun, we both have insatiable sexual appetites - if she's any better than me for him, she must look like a pissing MODEL or something - because I am telling you now, there is hardly ANYTHING I wouldn't do to make a man happy.
God, listen to me, I sound so fucking shallow, like I'm God's greatest gift. Obviously I'm not. But shit, this is the guy who point-blank DIDN'T want a relationship with anyone, she must've won him over pretty fucking quick. But how? Maybe she gives amazing head. Plus, I suppose the fact that she's probably in the same CITY as him helps immensely. Fucking smart-arse bitch.
This is so unfair, everyone around me, friends, dalliances, crushes, exes, EVERYONE is having sex and being happy and falling in love. Even DAVID, the one who wanted out of all that. God, you know what this means? I no longer have a (extremely occasional only-when-in-the-area) Fuck Buddy. Well, fuck-a-doodle-do.
I might as well hang myself this instant. Or, deal with it in my own twisted way - namely to blog the SHIT out of it, speed-read "He's just not that into you" and play Ass Hunter for several hours, imagining each baddie to have David's face (only when I shoot them, not when they jump me)
For those of you wondering, "Ass Hunter" is a MADLY addictive game I found on Ebaum'sWorld - the site of which ALONE is utterly brilliant. Basically, you're a hunter, and all you have to do is get through each level (a leafy forrest) with your trusty gun, gaining lives and picking up ammo. The only trouble is the Ass Hunters, who wander out of the bushes, stark-bollock naked and head straight for you, with the sole purpose of jumping your bones. So naturally, you have to shoot them. Yes it's slightly graphic, (and with disturbing underlying messages of homophobic violence/portraying gay men as rampant predators) but damn, it's theraputic. Especially when, in my mind, all the Ass Hunters have David's face and are left to bleed all over the ground.......
Bitter? Me? As if, haha.
Actually, too fucking RIGHT I'm bitter. How the fuck DARE he start going out with someone else???!!! I hope his dick gets caught in a blender.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: extremely pissed off
Current Music: "Breathe" - Pink Floyd (works wonders when needing to meditate, calm down, or just plain forget everything.....)
Following the depressed-fest from earlier, things have looked up somewhat. If only slightly. Mum did one final "this is the last time I'll say this" speech before leaving me to it. After that we were both in that tentative, offering to help with cooking, making-jokes-and-smiling-a-lot-more-than-necessary mood when you're clearly being nice to make up for all the yelling earlier. Still, can't say I didn't enjoy it. I made tea after a 3-week hiatus - which, if I'm honest, was absolutely amazing. Tea, that is, not the hiatus. I'm back in the game!!
RECIPE OF THE DAY: LAMB BURGERS
Finely chop an onion, crush some garlic, crumble some Feta - slop it all in a big bowl with an egg white and a load of lamb mince, mash it all together, form burgers, and fry like a mother. Fantastic!
Had a spurt of inspiration afterwards, and retired back upstairs to read the Writer's Yearbook and start copying down every phone number of every newspaper and magazine in the region. Wrote an article about why Carrie Bradshaw is NOT a role model - which was basically me just bitching about why I don't like her. Surely there'll be a market for that kind of genre? Hmmm.
Had a nasty surprise a while ago upon checking Facebook, to discover that not only has Lee STILL not been online (where the fuck IS he, Mozambique??!) but David - DAVID - of the online flirting/sex talk who has not been laid since me and not had a relationship for like, 5 years, IS NOW SEEING SOMEONE. As in, actually in a relationship. I mean, what the fuck??! That's surely not fair!! For starters, that means someone else in the world apart from me is waking up to his outstanding snuggling, getting all his amazing moves and having sex with him every 25 minutes. And secondly, he was like, the Perpetually Single guy. He said he never WANTED a relationship!! The lying FUCKER!!! And now he's IN one??! What the fuck has HAPPENED to the world??! I bet she's really thin, or has something outstanding to reccomend her. Well, that's just dynamite. Why doesn't someone come and actually shit on my head, while they're at it? And in the meantime, throw the placenta of a newborn cow in my face and put arsenic in my drink? She must really be something goddamn special. Well fuck, David and I have a really good laugh, we're comfortable together, we have fun, we both have insatiable sexual appetites - if she's any better than me for him, she must look like a pissing MODEL or something - because I am telling you now, there is hardly ANYTHING I wouldn't do to make a man happy.
God, listen to me, I sound so fucking shallow, like I'm God's greatest gift. Obviously I'm not. But shit, this is the guy who point-blank DIDN'T want a relationship with anyone, she must've won him over pretty fucking quick. But how? Maybe she gives amazing head. Plus, I suppose the fact that she's probably in the same CITY as him helps immensely. Fucking smart-arse bitch.
This is so unfair, everyone around me, friends, dalliances, crushes, exes, EVERYONE is having sex and being happy and falling in love. Even DAVID, the one who wanted out of all that. God, you know what this means? I no longer have a (extremely occasional only-when-in-the-area) Fuck Buddy. Well, fuck-a-doodle-do.
I might as well hang myself this instant. Or, deal with it in my own twisted way - namely to blog the SHIT out of it, speed-read "He's just not that into you" and play Ass Hunter for several hours, imagining each baddie to have David's face (only when I shoot them, not when they jump me)
For those of you wondering, "Ass Hunter" is a MADLY addictive game I found on Ebaum'sWorld - the site of which ALONE is utterly brilliant. Basically, you're a hunter, and all you have to do is get through each level (a leafy forrest) with your trusty gun, gaining lives and picking up ammo. The only trouble is the Ass Hunters, who wander out of the bushes, stark-bollock naked and head straight for you, with the sole purpose of jumping your bones. So naturally, you have to shoot them. Yes it's slightly graphic, (and with disturbing underlying messages of homophobic violence/portraying gay men as rampant predators) but damn, it's theraputic. Especially when, in my mind, all the Ass Hunters have David's face and are left to bleed all over the ground.......
Bitter? Me? As if, haha.
Actually, too fucking RIGHT I'm bitter. How the fuck DARE he start going out with someone else???!!! I hope his dick gets caught in a blender.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: extremely pissed off
Current Music: "Breathe" - Pink Floyd (works wonders when needing to meditate, calm down, or just plain forget everything.....)
Everybody hurts......
Dear Diary,
You find me, once again, in the middle of a gigantic slump. Things are really getting worse, and it seems like I'm the one to blame. Just had the MOTHER of all rows with Mum, once again bemoaning my lack of job (or "proper" job, as she likes to call it). And it's all the more infuriating because she's right. I'm NOT trying hard enough to find a career, I'm NOT saving enough to jack it all in and run off to Paris, and I'm NOT getting out and meeting new people enough. Ended our row the way I end all our rows, by staring at the floor, looking pained and upsettedly at her (whilst inwardly wanting to curse her with every name under the sun - for the mere crime of trying to make me a proper human being) and then fleeing upstairs to have a massive weep. Same shit, different day.
Sometimes I just want to scream at her; "Do you think I ENJOY this??! Being on the shit-pile, day in, day out, with no friends around to hang out with, no partner to find solace and happiness in, listening to my parents bicker like teenagers over the most stupid things, having to find excitement in soaps, cooking meals and the occasional walk, having my printed-off-and-sent-in-work being ignored by every theatre and literary agent in the country, whilst being turned down by every single goddamn fucking office, shop, bar and restaurant in town, because NO-ONE WANTS TO FUCKING HIRE ANYONE ANYMORE??!!"
Not to mention the fact that she's just completely guilt-tripped me with the whole "We spent £9000 sending you to uni, why won't you MAKE something out of it?" schtick. First of all - she came upstairs and said this to me about 10 minutes after our last fight, I would bet anything I owned that she spent those 10 minutes looking through her bank statements and letters, just to have that information to throw at me. And second, she ALWAYS knew I was going to do Drama or Writing. Or both. Those are the facts. We always knew I was terrible at Maths, can't build anything, don't understand science, and have trouble understanding "The Matrix," let alone doing Law. This is the road we knew I'd take - if she didn't like it (as she always claims she hasn't) then why the fuck send me to university??! I don't get it. I tell you something, if I ever end up winning an award, be it for writing, directing, acting, whatever..... (and I don't for a SECOND think I'm that good, it's just a hypothetical) I most certainly won't be thanking my "parents for all their support" as so many do.
I'm so fucking SICK of not being able to find work. Even when I throw my arse into it, tramping the streets with CVs day and night, I still get nothing. It's just not that easy finding work these days. And Mum can talk about "persistance" and "initiative" all she wants, but at the end of the day, it's so much more tempting to kick back and play Ass Hunter for hours on end, instead of visiting the same places over and over, and being known as an annoying, pestering little freak.
I'm so upset right now, I can hardly focus. And the bitch of it is, I can't get away from it. I have £60 in my account this week, and it's already pre-planned what to spend it on. I have no money. Otherwise there would be absolutely NOTHING stopping me from just upping sticks and running away to France, or even just a Travel Inn for a few weeks. But I can't. I can't even crash a friend's house, or go to my Auntie's, as none of the few friends I have round here are practical, and I couldn't go to Auntie's without the parents knowing where to find me.
I just want to hide away somewhere and scream - this is getting way too much for me. I don't know what to do anymore. There is NOTHING I can do that will please that woman. This has happened before, at uni. She went on and on at me to "get a job." So I got a job. Was she pleased? For about 2 weeks, and then it was "get another job." So I hunted around for about a month, before getting a 2nd job. Well done Kat? Yeah, for about a day, before it was "get more hours." So I got more hours. Then it was "get MORE hours," until I was asking every single day, to the point where they ran out of hours to give me. And all I got was "why not? How did everyone else get the hours before you did?" I CANNOT FUCKING WIN!!!!
I am literally considering prostitution at this point. Seriously. What the fuck else can I do? OK, obviously I would never do it, but hell, maybe there's a market for men who just want to be given protected head by a larger woman. Who knows? There's an awful lot of fetishes out there.
Besides, I'm getting threatened with rent by the end of this month if I don't get a job - that seriously might have to be an option, at this point. Unless there's a better route I can go down. Bank robbery, maybe? Or drug dealing? Gosh, this is fun.
Not been up to much since I last wrote. Saturday was boring, Sunday even more so. I've read a lot of books and watched a lot of films. Went to Marie's last night and stayed in getting pissed, instead of venturing to the pub - the drama in which has reached fever pitch. Something to do with Marie's boyfriend (who claims they aren't going out, but calls her "his bird" and gets annoyed when she so much as SPEAKS to other men) and the other lads in there. Wasn't too sorry to give it a miss to be honest - I didn't really fancy having to explain to Gaz why I wasn't going home with him once again (the truth being that he lives in a box, has a grey tooth, tastes like licking an ashtray and needs to wash his bits once in a while. Yeah, you heard me. *Shudder*)
Although had a very embarrassing incident where I used Marie's phone to text him and explain why I've been out of touch (due to cut off phone) - he replied that I had the wrong Gaz. I replied "No I haven't, you have a Liverpool tattoo, you live in a caravan on your worksite, and 2 weeks ago I came back to it and had sex with you. Remember me now?" His reply; "No, DEFINATELY someone else. So, how've you been, anyway?" And that's when terror and COMPLETE humiliation struck me, as I realised I'd been texting Gary - FROM THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY. I literally went numb. Apologised loads and had a little small talk before lobbing the phone across the room and hiding my head under a cushion to make it go away. Fun.
Tonight looks to be good..... I can't afford Belly Dancing OR the pub quiz (oh, what a shame, I don't get to hang out with Anne, woe is me) so I'm cooking tea tonight. Lamb and Feta burgers with chips and a greek salad. Yeah, motherfucker.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: frustrated and upset
Current Music: "Everybody hurts" - R.E.M (which is making me want to cry even more)
You find me, once again, in the middle of a gigantic slump. Things are really getting worse, and it seems like I'm the one to blame. Just had the MOTHER of all rows with Mum, once again bemoaning my lack of job (or "proper" job, as she likes to call it). And it's all the more infuriating because she's right. I'm NOT trying hard enough to find a career, I'm NOT saving enough to jack it all in and run off to Paris, and I'm NOT getting out and meeting new people enough. Ended our row the way I end all our rows, by staring at the floor, looking pained and upsettedly at her (whilst inwardly wanting to curse her with every name under the sun - for the mere crime of trying to make me a proper human being) and then fleeing upstairs to have a massive weep. Same shit, different day.
Sometimes I just want to scream at her; "Do you think I ENJOY this??! Being on the shit-pile, day in, day out, with no friends around to hang out with, no partner to find solace and happiness in, listening to my parents bicker like teenagers over the most stupid things, having to find excitement in soaps, cooking meals and the occasional walk, having my printed-off-and-sent-in-work being ignored by every theatre and literary agent in the country, whilst being turned down by every single goddamn fucking office, shop, bar and restaurant in town, because NO-ONE WANTS TO FUCKING HIRE ANYONE ANYMORE??!!"
Not to mention the fact that she's just completely guilt-tripped me with the whole "We spent £9000 sending you to uni, why won't you MAKE something out of it?" schtick. First of all - she came upstairs and said this to me about 10 minutes after our last fight, I would bet anything I owned that she spent those 10 minutes looking through her bank statements and letters, just to have that information to throw at me. And second, she ALWAYS knew I was going to do Drama or Writing. Or both. Those are the facts. We always knew I was terrible at Maths, can't build anything, don't understand science, and have trouble understanding "The Matrix," let alone doing Law. This is the road we knew I'd take - if she didn't like it (as she always claims she hasn't) then why the fuck send me to university??! I don't get it. I tell you something, if I ever end up winning an award, be it for writing, directing, acting, whatever..... (and I don't for a SECOND think I'm that good, it's just a hypothetical) I most certainly won't be thanking my "parents for all their support" as so many do.
I'm so fucking SICK of not being able to find work. Even when I throw my arse into it, tramping the streets with CVs day and night, I still get nothing. It's just not that easy finding work these days. And Mum can talk about "persistance" and "initiative" all she wants, but at the end of the day, it's so much more tempting to kick back and play Ass Hunter for hours on end, instead of visiting the same places over and over, and being known as an annoying, pestering little freak.
I'm so upset right now, I can hardly focus. And the bitch of it is, I can't get away from it. I have £60 in my account this week, and it's already pre-planned what to spend it on. I have no money. Otherwise there would be absolutely NOTHING stopping me from just upping sticks and running away to France, or even just a Travel Inn for a few weeks. But I can't. I can't even crash a friend's house, or go to my Auntie's, as none of the few friends I have round here are practical, and I couldn't go to Auntie's without the parents knowing where to find me.
I just want to hide away somewhere and scream - this is getting way too much for me. I don't know what to do anymore. There is NOTHING I can do that will please that woman. This has happened before, at uni. She went on and on at me to "get a job." So I got a job. Was she pleased? For about 2 weeks, and then it was "get another job." So I hunted around for about a month, before getting a 2nd job. Well done Kat? Yeah, for about a day, before it was "get more hours." So I got more hours. Then it was "get MORE hours," until I was asking every single day, to the point where they ran out of hours to give me. And all I got was "why not? How did everyone else get the hours before you did?" I CANNOT FUCKING WIN!!!!
I am literally considering prostitution at this point. Seriously. What the fuck else can I do? OK, obviously I would never do it, but hell, maybe there's a market for men who just want to be given protected head by a larger woman. Who knows? There's an awful lot of fetishes out there.
Besides, I'm getting threatened with rent by the end of this month if I don't get a job - that seriously might have to be an option, at this point. Unless there's a better route I can go down. Bank robbery, maybe? Or drug dealing? Gosh, this is fun.
Not been up to much since I last wrote. Saturday was boring, Sunday even more so. I've read a lot of books and watched a lot of films. Went to Marie's last night and stayed in getting pissed, instead of venturing to the pub - the drama in which has reached fever pitch. Something to do with Marie's boyfriend (who claims they aren't going out, but calls her "his bird" and gets annoyed when she so much as SPEAKS to other men) and the other lads in there. Wasn't too sorry to give it a miss to be honest - I didn't really fancy having to explain to Gaz why I wasn't going home with him once again (the truth being that he lives in a box, has a grey tooth, tastes like licking an ashtray and needs to wash his bits once in a while. Yeah, you heard me. *Shudder*)
Although had a very embarrassing incident where I used Marie's phone to text him and explain why I've been out of touch (due to cut off phone) - he replied that I had the wrong Gaz. I replied "No I haven't, you have a Liverpool tattoo, you live in a caravan on your worksite, and 2 weeks ago I came back to it and had sex with you. Remember me now?" His reply; "No, DEFINATELY someone else. So, how've you been, anyway?" And that's when terror and COMPLETE humiliation struck me, as I realised I'd been texting Gary - FROM THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY. I literally went numb. Apologised loads and had a little small talk before lobbing the phone across the room and hiding my head under a cushion to make it go away. Fun.
Tonight looks to be good..... I can't afford Belly Dancing OR the pub quiz (oh, what a shame, I don't get to hang out with Anne, woe is me) so I'm cooking tea tonight. Lamb and Feta burgers with chips and a greek salad. Yeah, motherfucker.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: frustrated and upset
Current Music: "Everybody hurts" - R.E.M (which is making me want to cry even more)
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