3-day hangovers

Dear Diary,

Following that mental entry (MENTRY!) on Saturday, not much has happened between then and now. Had a shift at the Trees at 5, but due to gabbing with Kyle over toast and him inadvertantly sending me the LONGEST POSSIBLE route to the train station (despite this being HIS city) I missed my train, and consequently only had about 8 minutes between arriving home and going back out again. Needless to say, spent the whole of my very long, boring and quiet shift completely hungover, still utterly baffled/turned on, and having to munch on Smarties and pork scratchings to stave off rickets, due to missing tea. I don't even like pork scratchings.

The shift was awful anyway. Had a complete chav dickhead in, who made me lie for him every one of the 5 times his girlfriend rang the pub looking for him, annoyed the hell out of everyone and nearly beat up his best mate. Then there was the pissed-up platinum blonde friend of the landlady, who seemed convinced for half of the night that I was a distant niece. Then there was Julie - who at one point actually had to leap on the bar (not literally) with me as I was getting in such a tizz, took one look at me and said "You're obviously not here tonight, are you?" Eeeek. And then there was Jerry, who lives upstairs with Julie, who believes he rules the fucking ROOST. A landlord roost, despite the fact that his name isn't ANYWHERE over the door or on the ownership papers. Jerry hates it when the staff read behind the bar, eat behind the bar, text behind the bar, smile, blink, you name it...... Well, what's a girl to do when it's completely dead, there's no-one to serve, nothing to do, she's working alone and has to get the frequently re-playing images from last night out of her head?

Spent the end of the night having to walk all the way down to the main road to catch the night bus. At night. On my own. Eeep. Got to the bus stop only to discover that buses don't run between 11 and 1 oclock. What the fricking frack is the point of that??! Anyway, got a taxi with my tips, who arrived to find me sat alone at a bus stop, reading "Sex and the single Vampire." Good times. What I love is how a) Next Thursday I'll be getting two wage packets at once, and b) Even on an unfeasibly quiet night like Saturday, riddled by recession, I still made double the tips I'd've made on a good night at the other pub. Sweet.

ON SUNDAY, I:

Read a whole book
Slept in to the point where I thought I was actually in a coma
Realised for the first time since college/uni days that it is, in fact, possible to have a 2-day hangover
Nearly had a visual orgasm at a roast dinner
Reminisced pretty much 21 hours out of the day about Friday night, questioning everything
Had a webcam conversation with Kyle

TO PREVENT INTER-PARENTAL ARGUEMENTS, I:

Hoovered the entire house
Tidied the entire house
Dragged an entire battered sofa-bed downstairs to put on the skip outside. On my own. DAMN, the gym seems to be working!


Today (Monday) was pretty much the same, only without such heavy lifting and sofa/stairs negotiating. The good news is that Kyle seems to be approaching "what happened" the same way we always do - do not mention it whatsoever, have absolutely NO sense of awkwardness, and just carry on as we were before. I'm just confused. I would be trying to work it all out, but I can't be bothered thinking about it tonight - I'll come back to it another time when I actually get my brain around the hows and whys. Particularly the whys..... But not tonight, I seem to have been affected with a chronic case of the Slumps. Which is particularly annoying, as Mum keeps trying to make me DO things all the time. I really wish I lived on my own. Or even with a cat. A cat wouldn't make me do things, I'm sure. She is REALLY starting to get on my tits - NO-ONE else can create jobs that don't really need doing like she can. Grrrrrrrrrr..... She's off work tomorrow as well, so it's guaranteed nagging all day. Fun fun fun!

This is why I loved visiting Liverpool (same as Oxford, and Edinburgh when it comes) - as well as getting to see best friends, hang out, and have a rare old time - it's just so unbelieveably refreshing, fun and so goddamn FREEING to just get away from my stupid little life, even if it's just for a weekend, or even a night. To stop worrying about money, trying to get jobs, skillfully fending off Mum's constant Gestapo-like questions and putting myself down as a human being..... and just focus on getting pissed, having a laugh, reminiscing, seeing beautiful sights and just doing nothing but HAVING FUN. When I look at Kyle, it makes me sad sometimes, just because he's got it so completely sorted - gorgeous flat, long-term boyfriend, 3 jobs, living the life he loves. When will it be MY turn to get that?

This is really putting me in turmoil now - on the one hand it feels good to bitch and moan, but don't want to come across as some old whingebag, looking for sympathy. And everytime I think to myself; "Don't go to France yet, earn some more money, stick around a few more weeks," something else happens to make me want to run away even more, and live the life I want. That of a solitary writer. In France.
Christ, I sound pretentious. But it's true.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: frustrated. Again.
Current Music: "Any colour you like" - Pink Floyd