Day-Glo Weekend

Dear Diary,

Had a fantastic weekend. Following my choirboy antics (which I WISH was like it sounded....) on Friday, I woke up incredibly late on Saturday with a painful crick in my neck but a smile on my face. Mmmm...... sexy welsh choirboys..... (*makes Homer-esque dribbling noises*)

Mostly spent the day pottering around the house, annoying Mum with endless reminisces of male choirs and trying to waft the Programme towards her to see for herself. She didn't seem that interested.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, Joe from BSL class has actually been texting me!! And even more weirdly, replying to what I said! Who'd've thought it?! I was intitally going to fend him off on Thursday with my rehearsed, he's-just-not-that-into-me style brush-off of: "I've given too many guys my number who never bothered to get in touch - you know my name, if you want my number that much, you can look it up," but on reflection, I'm glad I didn't. Because he's actually texted. This is mental..... he's seen me in normal clothes, in "class-mode" and not "auto-flirt" mode, and yet he's actually texting me? Oh my god, even when I spent 5 whole minutes passionately defending Michael Jackson when we went for a drink?? Blimey. He must either be a robot, desperate, looking for a homework/practise buddy, or a genuinely nice lad who likes me. I'm willing to bet it's one of the first two.

Anyway, got a text from Anne, it was apparently Lizzy's (old college friend) birthday, so I was invited along to the night out in town. With a very distinct feeling of "I should be saving my money for these upcoming hotel excursions" mixed with a defiant "Fuck that fuck-buddy motherfucker for not being available tonight" - I got dressed in the good old Cheryl dress/hot pink accessories combo, and went out, determined to have fun.

And have fun I did. It was AMAZING to see the old friends again, and Lizzy was clearly loving every second. Despite having to walk about a mile - on heels - through town to the meeting point (the buses have stopped running past a certain point at the moment, grrrr....), waiting on a bench and watching a fountain for half an hour, during which I had a conversation with a travelling Spanish bloke who inexplicably told me I had "hands like a Scouser," I finally met the girls. Who, naturally, fell about laughing when I told them. Well, for all they know, he was trying to pronounce something else - maybe "Scouser" (or the nearby equivalent) in Spanish meant "beautifully crafted china doll" or "artist." Oh, I don't know.

So we tripped off to the Font bar, which unleashed shockingly fond memories of Liverpool and £2 cocktails. Met all the old gang, and several new friends, and the good times rolled. Especially when some genius produced three packets of glow-sticks. Now if there is one thing I fecking LOVE on a night out, it is glowsticks. Another genius even had the spellbinding idea of binding them together and creating an UBER GLOW STICK!!! And bind, we did. The bouncer even took a photo of us, revelling in the middle of an enormous, multicoloured, glowing ring. Now I wouldn't have found THAT in a hotel room with David, would I? Yeah!

Soon, after dabbing copious amounts of dayglo paint onto ourselves, we dismantled the GlowSnake into necklances and bracelets (and in my case, earrings) and set off down the road - for what was quite an ordinary club, if not for the UV lights everywhere. It was like something from the set of "Skins." Still, we made use of the cheap drinks and amazing atmosphere and proceeded to shake ass till the early hours.

Took a quick pit-stop into our favourite gay bar for the cheap shots and even cheaper music, before getting the night bus home. Which was quite alarmingly ambushed by an irate Asian man yelling things and swearing a lot - but still on the bus, despite being DETAINED OUTSIDE BY THE POLICE. For TEN MINUTES!!! And the driver still let him on!! I mean, what the hell? But we did our best to ignore him, and he soon got the hint. I chattered to the nice lad next to me, and got a pizza on the way home. Bombshell of the night - the takeaway man now KNOWS WHO I AM. He knows me by face, clearly demonstrated when I walked in, and he simply smiled and said "9 inch pepperoni, right?" Sweet mother of God. This is BAD NEWS.

Woke up on Sunday with my make-up still on, a surprisingly strong hangover and memories of dancing on a bench to "Comfortably Numb" with a girl who also loved MJ. Which made us both get ridiculously excited when "Billie Jean" came on. In a RAVE!! So naturally, we danced on the bench to that too.
Also found the words; "Make Seafood, not war" scrawled down one arm, and "Love-all" (with a smudge that should've been a tennis racket but looked more like a cartoon penis) on the other. With peeled-off flakes of day-glo paint dotted all around the room and even under my duvet. Eeeek.
Oh well - all the signs of a good night, I think you'll find!

Spent Sunday drifting round the house. Parents and Damien were out so had an enjoyable few hours with the house to myself, thinking about David and eating everything that came into my reach.
On the plus side, I've been going back to the gym recently - which is good, as I've not been for about 2 weeks. Shameful, I know. I've not exactly had anything else to do! And given what may or may not end up happening vis-a-vis my Friend with Benefits, I really should be focusing on whipping myself into shape.
Wow, I've just thought..... technically, given my current status and dealings with the JobCentre, I'm literally HIS Friend With Benefits!

Yeah, that was a terrible joke

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: shattered
Current Music: "I heard it through the grapevine" - Marvin Gaye