Dear Diary,
Yesterday was frankly, FANTASTIC. Following the glowing success of my picnic and a shift battling through hayfever for a hard-earned £8 of tips - I woke up yesterday to Mum telling me they were both out all afternoon, and if I wanted, I could invite Joe round and cook some tea.
Goddamit, why does she ALWAYS have the best ideas??! Grr..... Still, it beat watching TV and eating ice (the country is in something of a heatwave at the moment).
It was fun. We went to Tesco to buy ingredients - and I'm ashamed to say I had a brief moment of "Oooh, look at me, shopping for ingredients with my boyfriend like a grown-up!" But Joe was beaming; the pressures of Friday's family life had clearly lifted, and he was happy as Larry again (as was I when he picked up some Ben and Jerry's). However, I recently learnt one highly disconcerting fact - that, despite being a huge fan of horror films, he HAS NOT SEEN ANY OF THE "SAW" FILMS. Holy Christ. I have to sit down just READING that sentence. How can you be a horror fan, and NOT have seen the best, most original and gruesome concept to come out of Hollywood and span a 6-PICTURE DEAL in years??! Mortified by this, I decided it was high time to rectify the situation. And with the 6th and final film in the "Saw" franchise being released on my BIRTHDAY (MY BIRTHDAY!!!!) this year, I made an educated decision to initiate him - and made it my duty to show him all 5 "Saw" films so far before October.
So, with the chips safely in the oven and the chicken marinating, we snuggled down in front of "Saw." It was strange going back to the start - I'm so used to watching the others so frequently that I sometimes forget just how brilliant and fresh the original is. Especially watching it considering what you now know from the following films! Sweet. We paused it to go finish tea - I've got to say, as fiercely independant as I normally am in the kitchen, it was nice to have some help. Although he did, in an appraising sort of voice, say I was a "good little housewife." Eeeeep. Never mind being filled with feminist indignation, I was a little worried at the unsexiness of the word "housewife," above anything else. But I was reassured as we munched down on pittas stuffed with herb-smothered chicken with chips and dill yoghurt (my signature dish). Followed by Ben and Jerry's. Yeah. I watched him out the corner of my eye, but he didn't even bat an eyelid at the shock twist at the end. Hmmm..... clearly a seasoned veteran I'm dealing with here. Oh well. Maybe the "Needle Pit" trap in the 2nd film will get him......
Afterwards we stuck "Mr. Bean" on and retired upstairs for a little cheeky fumbling - which is EXACTLY when Mum and Dad decided to come home. GODDAMIT!! (I know, I know, should've done it the minute Mum and Dad left for the afternoon instead of leaving it till late - I'm such a cretin sometimes, it's unbelievable) I practically threw Joe into the bathroom and vaulted down the stairs, all my clothes in place, but all breathless and sweaty (thank SHIT for the the heatwave - valid excuse). Joe and parents made pleasant conversation, Joe enthusiastically backing up my crazy cooking skills (YES!!) and general blah-di-blah before leaving.
We decided to try and both become more fit and lose weight (he's going to try joining a football team again) so have decided to go swimming every Monday. Just got back tonight - I won't exactly say it was fun, repeatedly swimming clockwise in lengths and getting bashed by those who did whenever I stopped for a rest. Not to mention I've BADLY fallen behind, considering I used to be a fantastic swimmer. But it was ace to get back in the water, practice my diving (I've still got it) and accidentally-on-purpose giving Joe a boner in the deep end before swimming away. Fun times!
And then we went and destroyed all that hard work with a curry. But fuck it, it was worth it.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: chlorine-riddled
Current Music: "Aint no sunshine" - Jackson 5
Monday, 29 June 2009
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Thursday, 25 June 2009
(no subject)
Holy fuck, please dont let it be true. Please for the love of all that is good and holy, don't let it have happened. It can't be true. Michael Jackson does not just DIE. That's not what he does. For fuck's sake, he's ALWAYS there!! He's not the kind of person who goes like that.
This is a sick hoax, it's got to be. Sat in front of Sky, Fox, CNN and BBC news, waiting for confirmation. It won't be confirmed. It can't be. This will surely be one of those mental rumours - like the time everyone thought Paul Buchannan or Shakira was dead. Because Michael Jackson does not DIE. It'll be exhaustion, a heart attack brought on from exhaustion during rehearsals or something. Seriously - he won't leave us. How fucking much has he been through in the last decade? And he's still hanging!
Seriously though, I wish all the stations would take down the "MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD" in big red and black letters. CNN have just said it ISN'T confirmed, for christ's sake!!!! They'll save him, surely. They HAVE to.
4:12am - It's been confirmed. Actually, it was confirmed hours ago. I've sat flicking through 8 news channels all night, but they're all saying the same thing - and despite the voice in my head that keeps telling me to ignore it all, it seems it really is true. He's gone. Completely and irrevocably. Forever.
I'm going to bed. I hope to GOD this was all a big elaborate nightmare.
This is a sick hoax, it's got to be. Sat in front of Sky, Fox, CNN and BBC news, waiting for confirmation. It won't be confirmed. It can't be. This will surely be one of those mental rumours - like the time everyone thought Paul Buchannan or Shakira was dead. Because Michael Jackson does not DIE. It'll be exhaustion, a heart attack brought on from exhaustion during rehearsals or something. Seriously - he won't leave us. How fucking much has he been through in the last decade? And he's still hanging!
Seriously though, I wish all the stations would take down the "MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD" in big red and black letters. CNN have just said it ISN'T confirmed, for christ's sake!!!! They'll save him, surely. They HAVE to.
4:12am - It's been confirmed. Actually, it was confirmed hours ago. I've sat flicking through 8 news channels all night, but they're all saying the same thing - and despite the voice in my head that keeps telling me to ignore it all, it seems it really is true. He's gone. Completely and irrevocably. Forever.
I'm going to bed. I hope to GOD this was all a big elaborate nightmare.
Oh Happy Day!
Dear Diary,
FINALLY!! Finally after waiting 4 days more than I should have, my results are through. My uni results. You may or may not be glad to hear that I, after re-sits, re-enroling and toiling, am now the proud owner of a Second-Class degree!! Although I strangely don't feel all that bothered about it to be honest - I've been waiting to hear so long, I've sorta took it for granted that I passed. Ach, well. I have an actual official degree! Yes, it's a "Lower Second" (2:2) and yes my re-submitted work turned out to be shit despite all the effort I put in over the summer. But fuck it, to quote the wonderful Jez from "Peep Show" - "I didn't go to uni to get a degree!"
Today I had a revelation. Just as I was sinking into my usual mid-afternoon lethargic "Oh my god, everything is really quite shit, still" state of rubbishness, something clicked in my mind and I realised something. Quite a few things, actually.
So yeah, having had this revelation, I've come to the - if somewhat brief and fleeting - conclusion that, so far, Life is SWEET. I don't know what it is, but everything just finally feels like it's coming together for me at last. Maybe in 6 months I'll have a well-paid job and a flat! Maybe I'LL be able to take JOE out for once! (Although, I have organised a picnic for Saturday, and so far done ALL the preparation myself!) Maybe Jacko will release another album! A COMEBACK album! Maybe someone will finally write back to me, saying; "Kat, your script is magnificent. Please come work for us."
Maybe everything's going to be wonderful after all!!!!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: "Copecabana" - Barry Manilow
FINALLY!! Finally after waiting 4 days more than I should have, my results are through. My uni results. You may or may not be glad to hear that I, after re-sits, re-enroling and toiling, am now the proud owner of a Second-Class degree!! Although I strangely don't feel all that bothered about it to be honest - I've been waiting to hear so long, I've sorta took it for granted that I passed. Ach, well. I have an actual official degree! Yes, it's a "Lower Second" (2:2) and yes my re-submitted work turned out to be shit despite all the effort I put in over the summer. But fuck it, to quote the wonderful Jez from "Peep Show" - "I didn't go to uni to get a degree!"
Today I had a revelation. Just as I was sinking into my usual mid-afternoon lethargic "Oh my god, everything is really quite shit, still" state of rubbishness, something clicked in my mind and I realised something. Quite a few things, actually.
- Whilst being "technically" unemployed, I still have a regular job and income (even if it's small).
- I live with my loving (if not nagging) parents who have not yet kicked me out.
- Therefore: I have a roof over my head and I don't have to pay everytime I want to wash or eat stuff.
- I have an actual real boyfriend who not only doesn't care that I'm a jobless slacker, but also isn't scared of my strange mannerisms, finds my weird laugh hilarious, and embraces my kinky side (forgot to mention, he's found a very exciting website to look at - Collaredncuffed.com - something to think about!).
- I have a degree.
- I've had so many extra shifts this week that I have LOADS of wages coming through next week.
- Therefore, can almost DEFINATELY afford to go see Michael Jackson at the O2, not only LIVE, not only for the last time ever (possibly) but also on the same day as Kyle - not to mention engaging in a hotel/London extravaganza!
So yeah, having had this revelation, I've come to the - if somewhat brief and fleeting - conclusion that, so far, Life is SWEET. I don't know what it is, but everything just finally feels like it's coming together for me at last. Maybe in 6 months I'll have a well-paid job and a flat! Maybe I'LL be able to take JOE out for once! (Although, I have organised a picnic for Saturday, and so far done ALL the preparation myself!) Maybe Jacko will release another album! A COMEBACK album! Maybe someone will finally write back to me, saying; "Kat, your script is magnificent. Please come work for us."
Maybe everything's going to be wonderful after all!!!!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: "Copecabana" - Barry Manilow
Monday, 22 June 2009
BEST. WEEKEND. EVER.
Dear Diary,
Holy shit. You will not literally BELIEVE the weekend I've had. Seriously. I don't even believe it. It's like a dream, something from somebody else's life. Stuff like this doesn't happen to me whatsoever - and now it has. I feel exhilerated, lighter than air, and above all - happy. Actually, sack that, I am absolutely fucking THRILLED. And 'scuse all the French, but there is no possible other way I can express myself so vociferously. Never mind walks in the park, bunches of flowers, sex on the floor or cuddly nights in with DVDs and munchies - he has done it this time. Well and truly topped the bill. How else can I put it - This. is. the. MOTHER LOAD. The All Time High. Numero Uno. The Queen. Head of State. Casino Royale. The Godfather. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah.
Where to begin? Well, FRIDAY afternoon of course......
So after a whole day's agonised pacing, pampering and re-packing, 4 oclock found me crouched on the bathroom floor, desperately trying to scrape hair removal cream off my legs with a spatula. Bloody "Veet." Word of advice - the only reason your legs end up so smooth is because you scratch them to shit trying to do it properly, and as for "Lotus and Jasmine" - try rancid fish that's been kept in an attic for a week. Still, for better or worse, it actually worked, my legs felt like silk (I know, cliche'ed. Actually had to fight the urge not to stroke them sensually, a' la adverts). I think they only become so smooth because you practically take the skin off your legs during the proceeds.
Mum dropped me off at the location in town - hindered by staggering amounts of roadworks, which left her in a towering temper, and me with only 1 minute to go till meeting. We speculated whilst sat in traffic what it could all be - she thought the lolly was a red herring, I joked that maybe he'd take me for a night in the Hilton. Eventually got dropped off at the square, which was ominously empty. I walked over with my suitcase, lolly in hand, and frankly, a little nervous. And then I saw him. With the Landlady's fierce warnings of; "Kat, love, you'd better fucking text me the MINUTE you find out what that lolly's for!" ringing in my head, I trailed over, waving and smiling. I presented the lolly like a trophy. He broke into a grin, took the lolly and turned around. I watched, heart pounding, as he turned to face a building behind me, gave a strange sort of signal, murmured; "Any minute now".....................................................
............... and then unwrapped the lolly, put it in his mouth, turned back round and said "Cheers. Let's go." Can you BELIEVE that??! It WAS a red herring!! I ran after him, shrieking, demanding explanations and whacking him with my spare hand, while he smiled and protested that "it DID serve a purpose" - because he just really really wanted a lolly. BASTARD!! I fished another out of my handbag and stomped along, furiously sucking (that sounds so dodgy) and muttering how he didn't quite seem to understand the magnitude of what he'd done, how long I'd spent madly pondering the meaning of the lolly - enlisting friends, family and employers to help.
As we rounded the corner, we passed the aforementioned Hilton. I had no idea how close it was to the city centre I knew so well - I'd never had any reason to visit this part of town before. As we gazed into the sky, trying to see the top of the building (impossible), I told Joe (mainly to take my mind off lollipop-related fury) how it's always the first thing you see when you re-enter the city, and on all those coach journeys home, I used to stare out the window at it and wonder if I'd ever become sucessful enough as an actor/scriptwriter to be able to spend just one night there. Even though I knew it was an impossible dream, but still, a nice one, nontheless. He nodded seriously as we walked past the foyer, able to stare into the lobby through the glass. And then, without missing a beat, he turned to me and said; "Well, shall we go in then?" I laughed, saying there was no WAY a place like that would let two scruffy people in just to explore. Straight-faced, he looked dead at me, and proclaimed: "They will if you have a room."
...........................................................................
Just to reiterate:
Joe. Booked a room. For us. For one night. At The HILTON.
THE HILTON.
THE HOTEL!!!
THE REALLY FAMOUS WORLDWIDE INCREDIBLY POSH ONE!!!
A NIGHT!!
AT THE MOTHERFUCKING HILTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you fucking BELIEVE IT!!???!! I certainly couldn't. I stood there, gaping like a fish, as wave after wave of goosebumps crashed over me at the enormity of it all, unable to feel anything in my arms and legs. I asked if he was taking the piss, he smiled and held the door open. Numbly, I followed him, still (naeive, I know) waiting for him to turn round and say "Nah, I was actually just kidding. It was another red herring. Gotcha!" We walked up to the check-in point, and when he uttered the words; "Hi, I've got a reservation under the name of......" I damn near fainted. I stood staring at my incredible surroundings, mouth gracefully hanging open as the friendly receptionist smiled at my look of stunned disbelief, whispered; "Surprise was it, Sir?" and gave us our room key.
It was incredible. The lift travelled 8 floors in literally 3 seconds. He flung open the door to reveal a stunning, spacious room with HD ready (HD READY!!!), a double bed with feather duvet and about 16 pillows, a huge glorious painting of a wild flower, a glass coffee table, little armchair, green lamps, and most importantly - the most amazing view over the city I've ever seen. I rushed in like a charging bull, flattening myself against the window, screaming and taking in the surroundings. Joe laughed as I ran from room to bathroom, exclaiming over everything and touching nothing (I was scared to, if I'm honest). He joined me at the window where we gazed out, me saying idiotic things like "Look at those people down there. They're not in the Hilton! And WE ARE!!" and burbling about how stunned I was and how I simply couldn't believe it. I kissed him for about 25 solid minutes, thanking him every 3, and trying to hide the fact that I was on the brink of tears that someone would do this for me.
He seemed remarkably un-fazed by it all, to be honest. When I questioned him, asking what would prompt such a staggering, unbe-fucking-lievable gesture like this, he just shrugged and said he "wanted to treat me." He said I seemed so fed-up and miserable about being at home, being unemployed, Mum pecking my head constantly and being ill (hayfever and cystitis?? Hardly flu, is it?), and he wanted to take me away from it all for a night so I could relax, forget it all and enjoy myself. He also mentioned how shittily my ex treated me, and he wanted to show me that I deserve to be treated like a lady. When I asked why he didn't just whisk me away to a Travelodge or Premier Inn, he replied: "Well, if we're gonna do something like this, we might as well do it in style!" Jesus Christ. Is he LOADED or something?? And just as I was thinking this, he said; "By the way, didn't you see the present I requested?" and stepped aside to reveal a bucket on the desk filled with ice, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of Nicholas Feuillatte.
I think, Ladies and Gentlemen, at this point, I actually did go a little faint and had to go sit on the bed. For about 2 seconds, before I leaped up to partake in the champagne, which was actual real champagne, not even the Cava you get at Tescos! This was incredible. Presumably I missed it, as I whirled into the room, trying to see everything at once. We drank and gazed out at the view. Mum rang to find out what the lolly was for ("See! I TOLD you it was a red herring!") and to shriek and gasp as I had the old "Oh-my-god-Mum-you-won't-believe-where-I-am-right-now-remember-what-I-joked-about-in-the-car-that-one-in-a-million-chance-idea-well-it-actually-came-true-yes-that's-right-I'm standing-in-a-room-in-the-motherfucking-Hilton-drinking-champagne-and-overlooking-the-city!!!!!" conversation, Joe laughing his arse off in the background.
Holy shit. You will not literally BELIEVE the weekend I've had. Seriously. I don't even believe it. It's like a dream, something from somebody else's life. Stuff like this doesn't happen to me whatsoever - and now it has. I feel exhilerated, lighter than air, and above all - happy. Actually, sack that, I am absolutely fucking THRILLED. And 'scuse all the French, but there is no possible other way I can express myself so vociferously. Never mind walks in the park, bunches of flowers, sex on the floor or cuddly nights in with DVDs and munchies - he has done it this time. Well and truly topped the bill. How else can I put it - This. is. the. MOTHER LOAD. The All Time High. Numero Uno. The Queen. Head of State. Casino Royale. The Godfather. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah.
Where to begin? Well, FRIDAY afternoon of course......
So after a whole day's agonised pacing, pampering and re-packing, 4 oclock found me crouched on the bathroom floor, desperately trying to scrape hair removal cream off my legs with a spatula. Bloody "Veet." Word of advice - the only reason your legs end up so smooth is because you scratch them to shit trying to do it properly, and as for "Lotus and Jasmine" - try rancid fish that's been kept in an attic for a week. Still, for better or worse, it actually worked, my legs felt like silk (I know, cliche'ed. Actually had to fight the urge not to stroke them sensually, a' la adverts). I think they only become so smooth because you practically take the skin off your legs during the proceeds.
Mum dropped me off at the location in town - hindered by staggering amounts of roadworks, which left her in a towering temper, and me with only 1 minute to go till meeting. We speculated whilst sat in traffic what it could all be - she thought the lolly was a red herring, I joked that maybe he'd take me for a night in the Hilton. Eventually got dropped off at the square, which was ominously empty. I walked over with my suitcase, lolly in hand, and frankly, a little nervous. And then I saw him. With the Landlady's fierce warnings of; "Kat, love, you'd better fucking text me the MINUTE you find out what that lolly's for!" ringing in my head, I trailed over, waving and smiling. I presented the lolly like a trophy. He broke into a grin, took the lolly and turned around. I watched, heart pounding, as he turned to face a building behind me, gave a strange sort of signal, murmured; "Any minute now".....................................................
............... and then unwrapped the lolly, put it in his mouth, turned back round and said "Cheers. Let's go." Can you BELIEVE that??! It WAS a red herring!! I ran after him, shrieking, demanding explanations and whacking him with my spare hand, while he smiled and protested that "it DID serve a purpose" - because he just really really wanted a lolly. BASTARD!! I fished another out of my handbag and stomped along, furiously sucking (that sounds so dodgy) and muttering how he didn't quite seem to understand the magnitude of what he'd done, how long I'd spent madly pondering the meaning of the lolly - enlisting friends, family and employers to help.
As we rounded the corner, we passed the aforementioned Hilton. I had no idea how close it was to the city centre I knew so well - I'd never had any reason to visit this part of town before. As we gazed into the sky, trying to see the top of the building (impossible), I told Joe (mainly to take my mind off lollipop-related fury) how it's always the first thing you see when you re-enter the city, and on all those coach journeys home, I used to stare out the window at it and wonder if I'd ever become sucessful enough as an actor/scriptwriter to be able to spend just one night there. Even though I knew it was an impossible dream, but still, a nice one, nontheless. He nodded seriously as we walked past the foyer, able to stare into the lobby through the glass. And then, without missing a beat, he turned to me and said; "Well, shall we go in then?" I laughed, saying there was no WAY a place like that would let two scruffy people in just to explore. Straight-faced, he looked dead at me, and proclaimed: "They will if you have a room."
...........................................................................
Just to reiterate:
Joe. Booked a room. For us. For one night. At The HILTON.
THE HILTON.
THE HOTEL!!!
THE REALLY FAMOUS WORLDWIDE INCREDIBLY POSH ONE!!!
A NIGHT!!
AT THE MOTHERFUCKING HILTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you fucking BELIEVE IT!!???!! I certainly couldn't. I stood there, gaping like a fish, as wave after wave of goosebumps crashed over me at the enormity of it all, unable to feel anything in my arms and legs. I asked if he was taking the piss, he smiled and held the door open. Numbly, I followed him, still (naeive, I know) waiting for him to turn round and say "Nah, I was actually just kidding. It was another red herring. Gotcha!" We walked up to the check-in point, and when he uttered the words; "Hi, I've got a reservation under the name of......" I damn near fainted. I stood staring at my incredible surroundings, mouth gracefully hanging open as the friendly receptionist smiled at my look of stunned disbelief, whispered; "Surprise was it, Sir?" and gave us our room key.
It was incredible. The lift travelled 8 floors in literally 3 seconds. He flung open the door to reveal a stunning, spacious room with HD ready (HD READY!!!), a double bed with feather duvet and about 16 pillows, a huge glorious painting of a wild flower, a glass coffee table, little armchair, green lamps, and most importantly - the most amazing view over the city I've ever seen. I rushed in like a charging bull, flattening myself against the window, screaming and taking in the surroundings. Joe laughed as I ran from room to bathroom, exclaiming over everything and touching nothing (I was scared to, if I'm honest). He joined me at the window where we gazed out, me saying idiotic things like "Look at those people down there. They're not in the Hilton! And WE ARE!!" and burbling about how stunned I was and how I simply couldn't believe it. I kissed him for about 25 solid minutes, thanking him every 3, and trying to hide the fact that I was on the brink of tears that someone would do this for me.
He seemed remarkably un-fazed by it all, to be honest. When I questioned him, asking what would prompt such a staggering, unbe-fucking-lievable gesture like this, he just shrugged and said he "wanted to treat me." He said I seemed so fed-up and miserable about being at home, being unemployed, Mum pecking my head constantly and being ill (hayfever and cystitis?? Hardly flu, is it?), and he wanted to take me away from it all for a night so I could relax, forget it all and enjoy myself. He also mentioned how shittily my ex treated me, and he wanted to show me that I deserve to be treated like a lady. When I asked why he didn't just whisk me away to a Travelodge or Premier Inn, he replied: "Well, if we're gonna do something like this, we might as well do it in style!" Jesus Christ. Is he LOADED or something?? And just as I was thinking this, he said; "By the way, didn't you see the present I requested?" and stepped aside to reveal a bucket on the desk filled with ice, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of Nicholas Feuillatte.
I think, Ladies and Gentlemen, at this point, I actually did go a little faint and had to go sit on the bed. For about 2 seconds, before I leaped up to partake in the champagne, which was actual real champagne, not even the Cava you get at Tescos! This was incredible. Presumably I missed it, as I whirled into the room, trying to see everything at once. We drank and gazed out at the view. Mum rang to find out what the lolly was for ("See! I TOLD you it was a red herring!") and to shriek and gasp as I had the old "Oh-my-god-Mum-you-won't-believe-where-I-am-right-now-remember-what-I-joked-about-in-the-car-that-one-in-a-million-chance-idea-well-it-actually-came-true-yes-that's-right-I'm standing-in-a-room-in-the-motherfucking-Hilton-drinking-champagne-and-overlooking-the-city!!!!!" conversation, Joe laughing his arse off in the background.
We hung out for a bit, (me still in shock) talking about the place and what it had to offer - using the telephones (there were THREE!!!) to call reception or room service for the tiniest, most pointless enquiries, just because we COULD. I fought the urge to jump on the bed and bounce around, so bounced around the room instead. We found out the place had a SWIMMING POOL, so after mopping up the mess after my head exploded, we trailed downstairs to check it out. Had to buy a cossie, but the pool was gorgeous, like swimming in a mill pond made of milk (but not, obviously, smelling of milk, that would be gross). I popped up and down out of the pool to wave at traffic below - Joe pointed out the buildings we could see and what they were. I floated dreamily down the length of the pool on my back, staring up through the glass ceiling at the rest of the Hilton and wondering what the hell I was doing there, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a girl like me to be in a place like that. We jumped into the Jacuzzi, me batting away his underwater advances (there was a security camera pointed at us) and gazed, laughing, at the pedestrians below, pointing out how none of them were in a jacuzzi in the Hilton and we were.
Back in our room we took the rest of the champagne into the shower (cliche'ed I know, but fuck it, you HAVE to do that in the Hilton!) and got ready for Phase 2 - which was a trip to a local concert hall to see a huge orchestra perform classical music! Didn't have time to straighten my hair (the chlorine fucked it up) but Joe looked gorgeous in his black tie, and I was confident that my dress and ALL Mum's borrowed stuff looked OK. At least I could walk in the shoes - which is more than can be said for MY shoe collection...... The orchestra were stunning, and as I sat with my eyes closed, listening to the sweeping melodies, I felt - there's only one word for it - chuffed. Beyond all belief.
We got back to the hotel about quarter to ten, where Joe revealed Phase 3 (the final phase) - dinner in the Hilton restaurant. Which apparently has a very strict dress code, hence the dress and black tie. I squealed excitedly, stuck the Music Channel on and helped finish the champagne - whilst attempting to body-pop and dance around an amused Joe, singing loudly along to Usher's "Caught up." We strutted downstairs at 10, looking very dapper and potentially classy - were I not figeting like crazy and saying "WOW!!" at everything. The restaurant was absolutely BEAUTIFUL, all dim lights, lovely tables and stunning ceilings. We were seated by a waiter who brought us Rose' wine, I (very expertly, I'd like to think) did the whole wine-inhalation before sipping. We never topped our own glasses up once. God, that waiter was fab. Had a slightly embarrassing moment when it came to the obligatory toast:
ME: "To the Hilton!"
HIM: "To you."
ME: "Oh sorry, and to you too, of course!"
Smooth (*smacks head*). But holy fuck-a-luck-a-ding-dong, wait till you hear what I had to eat. For starters: Scallop with creamy califlower sauce and rocket, Main Course: Half Lobster (LOBSTER!!) with potato wedges and garlic mayonaise. Dessert: A prim square of chocolate mousse so rich it had it's own postcode, and a scoop of peanut ice-cream. Obviously, everything came on small, pretentious little square plates and was very artfully arranged. But my god and sonny Jesus, it was exquisite. Had a brief moment of money-minded panic where I was torn over desperately wanting the lobster, but hating the idea of Joe handing over the equivalent of a few hours' wages on one course. But he urged me to do it, and "enjoy" myself. So I did. And I enjoyed it, from the moment I picked up my fork to the moment the lobster meat slid down my oesophagus (did I just spell that right? Sweet.......).
After dinner (which finished at midnight, eeep) we sauntered across the lobby, carrying our leftover glasses of wine, as we waltzed past the queue full of WAG-dressed schoolgirls (on some kind of do) all hoping to get the lift up to the executive lounge - where footballers etc.... hang out. As hotel guests, we could've easily jumped the queue, but at a rumoured £15 a cocktail and a welcoming room of our own waiting, we decided not to. Besides, the girls were all glaring at me for some reason. I'd like to think they were thinking:
"Mother of god, look at how stylishly that couple wear their elegance! Taking their wine up to their room - they must come here on a regular basis! I wish I could do that"
"Look at her dress...... wow. I wonder what it feels like to wear a dress that covers your thighs?"
But they were most likely thinking "Crikey, look at the size of her bottom!" or "Why isn't she wearing a WAG dress?? She mustn't be with us....."
Up in the room, after getting Room Service to bring some Diet Cokes, I decided to open the bag of "props" I packed, and finally give him a proper thank you. Even thought he insisted he wasn't doing all this for repayment, and even though I wanted to, what sprung to mind was that "Family Guy" Diamonds spoof - he booked me a room at the Hilton..... I pretty much HAD to. We eventually fell asleep at 4am (Mmmmm...... Hilton sex.....) in the comfiest bed known and created by all mankind. I know I've said this before, but this really was the mother load. Cream of the crop. Field of Dreams. Oh, let's not start all that again, the point is, it was like sleeping on a cloud. It would almost have been a dream come true, were it not for the snoring. A few pokes and staring straight into his eyes until he woke up (freaked out) seemed to work.
SATURDAYWoke up knackered, but thrilled as I realised I was in a Hilton bed. We rolled around, moaning about how starving we were, and once again used the phone for the pointless expedition of finding out when breakfast finished (11am). Too tired and hungry to even CONTEMPLATE morning sex, we dragged ourselves out to go find solace in the "Extensive Buffet Breakfast" (which we couldn't stop saying). Naturally, it was incredible, fry-up food on one side, muffins and bread rolls on the other, cheeses, Nutellas and SMOKED SALMON on the other. Obviously, we went for the fry-up with smoked salmon and orange juice, talking poshly and spoof-commenting on the stock market(despite me knowing absolutely sweet fuck-all about it). All we needed was a Daily Telegraph!
Check-out was at midday. Was hoping for some belated morning-sex but by the time we'd speedily packed, polished off last night's wine and made the bed, it was 3 minutes to 12. I sighed and huffed, indignant at the thought of leaving our little haven forever, not wanting to go back to normal life. I asked Joe (who used to work in a hotel) what would happen if we just stayed in the room and refused to come out - he said we'd get a phone call, telling us to leave, and then a knock on the door. Ten past 12 came, and no phone call. We had a quickie (I dared him, and he never turns down a dare), half 12 came and still no phone call. We had another quickie (praying no-one outside would look up at our window and see Joe's bottom), quarter to 1 came and STILL no phone call. By now, we realised we were well and truly taking the piss, so sadly picked up our suitcases, took some pictures and left.
At the check-out desk, Joe handed his card over while I discreetly looked away and tried not to hear how much it was. Which, unfortunately, I did. But what surprised me was how small the final cost was. Well, not "small" but definately below what I expecting. I'd heard "a grand a night" rumours. Maybe this place wasn't so expensive after all! I looked across at Joe, who had an enormous grin on his face, but - when asked why - told me he'd "tell me outside." Once he collected 3 copies of VAT receipts and invoices and I'd gazed around for the last time at this palace away from city life, we left.
Once safely round the corner, he told me - excitedly showing the proof on all 3 copies of the bill, that they had FORGOTTEN TO CHARGE HIM FOR THE ROOM. Seriously!! The bill contained all the additional services - the cossie, the champagne, the restaurant meal, the room service, but nowhere, on ANY of those pieces of paper did it mention room cost. That's why he'd asked for 3 copies of the bill, to cover his back, should anyone ask about it. We went over every possible reason, but Joe knows how hotels work, and the fact remained - be it a computer error or a slightly dim recpetionist, we had essentially just spent a night in the Hilton for free and there was NOTHING they could do about it!!! We could've got an extra bottle of champagne! Or ice cream on room service! I suddenly felt a lot less guilty about the lobster.
Despite the slightly illegal feeling - and expecting someone to come running after us at any moment - we were walking on air, and practically bounced back to the city centre, squealing like teenage girls. Neither of us had a Father's Day present yet, so we decided to go shopping. In a glorious flash of inspiration the answer came to me - I got him several Led Zeppelin albums and a live DVD of one of their concerts. When he was younger Dad used to sit for hours on end and listen to the albums on his massive headphones (which probably explains his hearing aid now) - so I reasoned that now, with the help of me and Itunes, he could do the same on his Ipod. Good times!
Had quite a shocking moment when walking past Faith - I stopped to drool over the shoes in the window, in particular a fine black pair with dimantes on. Whilst bemoaning why exactly these shoes weren't in my life, Joe stepped up, looked at them and said "Why don't you try them on?" When I replied that my lack of funds were restricting me, he simply said "I'll treat you."
OK, WHAAAAAAAAAT???!! What on EARTH was going on?? First the Hilton, then the concert, now this?! Now, I suppose it would be understandable if a guy made all these gestures to get into a girl's pants. But he's already in my pants!! So, what in the name of all that is good and holy, is all this lavishing in aid of? At that point, I genuinely went a little dizzy and had to run to the nearest railing to support myself. I remember dimly recalling how Carrie fainted at the Russian guy's overwhelmingness on "Sex and the City" (not that I am for a SECOND comparing myself to Carrie - she's vile). I asked why he was doing all this for me, he (aside from joking about the money saved from the free room) said that he doesn't spend money on himself - apart from the odd drink with his mates - and it's nice to have someone to treat. Sound reasoning! I guess I shouldn't complain.
After trying the shoes on (which didn't fit anyway, grr....) we went for a Subway lunch. I'm gonna be the size of a fricking HOUSE at this rate. I fended off the Landlady trying to rope me into an evening shift and got a call from Marie, who I hadn't spoke to in AGES. Turns out she's completely over PrickTard ex and is now seeing a really nice lad. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!After lunch we bobbed into Ann Summers, and managed to procure (with the money that would've gone on the shoes) a gorgeous new bra, stockings, a book, a DVD and a "Bondage Starter Kit." Weeeeeeeell, it IS on my list of "Things to Try before I'm 30" (why the frig haven't I written it down yet? I'll NEVER remember it!). And I've always been curious..... hehe.
Eventually we got the tram and went our separate ways, deciding to go back to his later. Got home and took a much-needed shower and nap, unpacked and put my new bra and stockings with matching knickers on, under an innocent outfit of joggers and t-shirt. Sadly, after watching "Little Britain" and "Kevin and Perry go Large" (classic) all evening, he yawningly told me he'd only had about 8 hours of sleep in the last two days and desperately needed sleep. Not even 2 ProPlus and the revealing of the sassy undergarments could keep him awake. Grrrrr......
SUNDAY
Sunday morning was FUN. Without giving too much away (as I kinda want to keep it to myself) - I got introduced, with the help of the kit, to the world of BDSM. He was surprisingly masterful at it! I've written down exactly what happened, only to be read by myself - as it was such an awesome experience, I don't really want to forget. I'd just rather no-one else read it, that's all. I'll just say - another 2 things can be struck off the "Before I'm 30" list.
Afterwards he dropped me home (after Subway AGAIN, yikes), and I gave Dad his presents, which he LOVED - immediately munching the chocolate and sticking on the DVD. Apparently Mum and Dad decided to have a little family "Father's day" BBQ, and told me I could invite Joe, so I did. Had a very lovely evening, listening to 60's and British music on Dad's ancient radio, munching barbeque and having a laugh.
Truly a perfect weekend. All I'll wondering is how the hell I'm gonna top that.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: blissed out
Current Music: "Uninvited" - Freemason's
Thursday, 18 June 2009
The Final Countdown.....
Dear Diary,
Well, slap me twice and call me Betty. I've been offered extra shifts at the pub. Oh, HAPPY DAYS!!! I've already worked twice this week, now I've been called in again tonight and given work Sunday too. 4 shifts in one week! SWEET!
Luckily, this should give me time to think of a suitable Father's Day present for Dad - after 22 years of knowing the man, you would be right to assume that I should know what he likes by now. Well, I do. But I'm still baffled. Oh well, I shall muse upon it further at work - I get a lot of thinking done there......
On the Magical Mystery Tour front: Today's updates/clues (left via Voicemail) are as follows:
I must find a dress (one that would fall under "Black Tie" category) to be worn somewhere posh.
I will have time (and indeed, space) to change once we arrive at our destination.
Phase 3 has been confirmed.
There will be equipment to do my hair and iron my clothes.
I must therefore turn up in normal everyday scruffs.
I must bring an overnight bag.
Ooooooooooh!! It's all so damnably exciting!! I've been spending all week trying to eke more clues out and get him to spill the beans, but truth be told - I don't think I'd WANT to know now. The surprise factor is making it all the more delicious, especially since it's tomorrow. My guess is thus: (leaving out the lollipop, 'cos that is driving me INSANE) - judging from what he's said about "calling in favours" and overnight bags, I reckon he has a mate with a really nice city appartment who's going away for the weekend and letting us use it. And we may be going somewhere really posh to eat in the evening. Wow...... hope I'm right, that sounds FANTASTIC!!
Anyway, I spent all afternoon auditioning and rejecting dresses (too pink, won't hold boobs securely anymore, too short, too not-black-tie......) before settling on my black, curve-inducing, latin-frilled, cross-strapped high school prom dress, which I was thrilled to discover I could still get into - well, just. I'll have to breathe in ALL night, maybe discard wearing underwear, and team up with a dusky-green wrap to hid the bingo wings and man-shoulders. But, a pair of Mum's shoes, her beaded black clutch bag and some of her expensive jewellery (all of which I've promised to guard with my LIFE) later, and I was sorted! I'm pretty much packed and ready to go.
I'm so excited I can hardly sit still, much less focus on work tonight. Less than 24 hours to go......
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: full of beans
Current Music: "Shame for you" - Lily Allen
Well, slap me twice and call me Betty. I've been offered extra shifts at the pub. Oh, HAPPY DAYS!!! I've already worked twice this week, now I've been called in again tonight and given work Sunday too. 4 shifts in one week! SWEET!
Luckily, this should give me time to think of a suitable Father's Day present for Dad - after 22 years of knowing the man, you would be right to assume that I should know what he likes by now. Well, I do. But I'm still baffled. Oh well, I shall muse upon it further at work - I get a lot of thinking done there......
On the Magical Mystery Tour front: Today's updates/clues (left via Voicemail) are as follows:
I must find a dress (one that would fall under "Black Tie" category) to be worn somewhere posh.
I will have time (and indeed, space) to change once we arrive at our destination.
Phase 3 has been confirmed.
There will be equipment to do my hair and iron my clothes.
I must therefore turn up in normal everyday scruffs.
I must bring an overnight bag.
Ooooooooooh!! It's all so damnably exciting!! I've been spending all week trying to eke more clues out and get him to spill the beans, but truth be told - I don't think I'd WANT to know now. The surprise factor is making it all the more delicious, especially since it's tomorrow. My guess is thus: (leaving out the lollipop, 'cos that is driving me INSANE) - judging from what he's said about "calling in favours" and overnight bags, I reckon he has a mate with a really nice city appartment who's going away for the weekend and letting us use it. And we may be going somewhere really posh to eat in the evening. Wow...... hope I'm right, that sounds FANTASTIC!!
Anyway, I spent all afternoon auditioning and rejecting dresses (too pink, won't hold boobs securely anymore, too short, too not-black-tie......) before settling on my black, curve-inducing, latin-frilled, cross-strapped high school prom dress, which I was thrilled to discover I could still get into - well, just. I'll have to breathe in ALL night, maybe discard wearing underwear, and team up with a dusky-green wrap to hid the bingo wings and man-shoulders. But, a pair of Mum's shoes, her beaded black clutch bag and some of her expensive jewellery (all of which I've promised to guard with my LIFE) later, and I was sorted! I'm pretty much packed and ready to go.
I'm so excited I can hardly sit still, much less focus on work tonight. Less than 24 hours to go......
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: full of beans
Current Music: "Shame for you" - Lily Allen
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
The Magical Mystery Tour begins.....
Dear Diary,
Something exciting (and vaguely alarming) has happened. Joe gave me a ring yesterday (not that kind, it's only been a month!) to tell me that he in fact had something planned. As in, a magical, mystery, actually executed plan, with STAGES, missions and clues. How amazing! I find myself both highly intrigued (and a little turned on, to be honest) at the thought of what he has up his sleeve. So far, he has revealed nothing, apart from these 4 pinpoints:
If pulled off, this will be a spectacular surprise. If one thing goes wrong, the whole thing will be completely ruined
Phases 1 + 2 out of 3 have already been confirmed
It is apparently something I have mentioned in passing, that I really want to do.
I must meet him at a certain location at 5:20 on Friday, and give him a strawberry lollipop. It is supposedly IMPERATIVE that the lollipop is red and strawberry, and I must NOT FORGET IT. The whole mission will fall apart if I don't bring it, apparently
Isn't that BAFFLING??! I've spent literally all day trying to figure out what the lollipop is for. He did say he had to "call in a few favours" - maybe it is payment for a mate. Maybe we need it to placate a small child? Or - *gulp* - maybe it's a secret signal, like the one given by Judas Iscariot. Maybe there's a sniper waiting on a nearby roof, and this is his unsubtle way of dumping, kidnapping or executing me! Shit.....
Nothing from real life to report - I went bowling last night with Anne and some college friends I've not seen for years, which was cool. Bit boring after a while when we ran out of things to talk about, and reverted to exclaiming over our terrible/brilliant bowling skills. I spent 10 minutes excitedly ranting to Anne about Joe, only for her, out of nowhere, to tell me she'd been dumped. Oops. Apparently he thought "it wasn't going anywhere." After only 3 months? Do me a favour. He must've found someone else, the knob.
Afterwards, on a sheer whim, I rang Joe and asked for a lift home - even though I could've rang Mum - just to see him and offload. God knows why, but he agreed to, and drove out to meet me. Didn't quite fancy going home yet, so we stopped at a pub on the way. We nursed our pints and ended up in an in-depth conversation about our significant exes, what cunts they were, exactly what they did and what happened to us to have truly earned the title "broken-hearted" in the past. Strangely, it was rather nice. I mean, I felt like crying (at both of our tales) but somehow, through telling this story, it felt like he trusted me. The feeling was mutual, anyway. God, I don't half get talkative when I'm infatuated.
Oh, and the excellent news is my cystitis has finally gone. Thank fuck for that - never mind the agonising pain and embarrassing infection, I would rather eat my own kneecap than drink that soluble sachet shite again.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: knackered, for a change
Current Music: "The Day we caught the Train" - Ocean Colour Scene
Monday, 15 June 2009
Silver Weekend
Dear Diary,
So, today is Monday. And it finds me at the end of a very long and knackering weekend. I may not have mentioned, but yesterday was the official party for Mum's and Dad's Silver Wedding Anniversary. True to form, they didn't want to do "anything big" (nah..... 25 years of marriage, nothing to celebrate, really, is it? Bloody hell.) - but we still ended up spending WEEKS preparing, buying food, storing champagne...... Mum (in house-proud overdrive) even went a step further and redecorated the bathroom floor. See, that I don't get. These are their FRIENDS coming round for ONE afternoon - they KNOW what the bathroom looks like, they're not going to judge you! Not to mention I've heard enough inter-parental quarrels about money to wonder how this was afforded...... Whatever, anyway, I guess Mum knows best.
The days leading up to this blessed event were pretty hellish - Mum yelling all the time, jobs that needed doing, Dad getting frustrated with it all (me too, to be honest), etc.... etc.... Not to mention I got cystitis, which absolutely KILLED. Bloody typical. After a little online research, I discovered it was a condition known as "Honeymoon Cystitis" (there are different types, apparently) - which one can sometimes get as a result of "increased sexual activity." Well, I'd rather get that than an STD. So I have to abstain from sex and drink shit-loads of Cranberry juice for a while - and take these sachets dissolved in water that taste VILE and nearly make me throw up.
Deaf Class was a welcome escape on THURSDAY, I felt myself relax and smile at being able to sit next to Joe and let our legs secretly brush when people were looking the other way. We learnt "descriptive" words this week - the teacher praised how well he was able to sign the word "curvy." Hmmmm, I wonder why? Afterwards I was too fed-up to go home straight away, (not to mention starving, as I'd forgone tea to dye my hair) so we went for a curry again. He was remarkably understanding about the cystitis - which I'd told him about earlier - and even laughed about it, saying he'd had a look online after I told him and found the same article about "Honeymoon" Cystitis - and that it was all his fault. Well, quite.
FRIDAY was nowt special. Dossed around all day, emailing off the usual flurry of over-enthusiastic job applications. The evening was fun, though - despite me being sent off with Mum's ringing threats that Grandmas was coming over tomorrow and I had to be home by 10 oclock AT THE LATEST OR ELSE, etc... etc... Having chucked an overnight bag in the boot, I introduced Joe to the magical experience of TGI Fridays, which he'd never been to before. Needless to say, he loved it (I'm sure the fact that I was wearing the Boob Monster had nothing to do with it.....). It's so much better now they've toned down on the hyperactiveness and pseudo-Americanism. Had 3 AMAZING courses and stared around at the exciting hubbub of birthday songs left right and centre, a stag do, and the general happiness that seemed to swirl like oxygen in places like that.
Had a good long talk about Mum and how crazy the execution of the party was driving us all. I will say this - he sure knows how to listen. And he even said I wasn't boring him! OK, I know no-one ever REALLY admites when you're boring them, but still...... damn.
Went back to his after another trip to Tesco for the accquisition of cranberry juice and Newky Brown Ale (I didn't dare touch any alcohol in my cystitic state) - but my heart wasn't really in it. Actually, correction - my HEART was in it, but my body wasn't. Between the permanently painful bladder and the constant hayfeverific sneezing, sniffling and coughing, I was an absolute wreck. Managed to forget it slightly as we settled down in front of the hilarious "Scary Movie" but remained a wincing groaning snuffling wheezing wreck for the whole evening. Grrrr..... How the hell does he put up with me??
Still, it wasn't a completely wasted night - I felt fully justified in asking for a relaxing massage..... he was out the door and off to Tesco before I even got the words out. Lay down in front of "Family Guy" on BBC3, laughing my arse off, until he returned with a bottle of Baby oil. Fun times!
Saturday morning was pretty hellish - woke up at 6am with my nose on fire and my eyes streaming. Surely enough my moaning and flopping woke Joe, who leaped up to shut the window (damn candle smoke, ruining everything!) before trying to calm my whining bitching self down. Why he didn't just put a sleeper-hold on me, I'll never know. Anyway, got a bit more sleep before being woken at 9, because he knew I'd have trouble getting up. See, this is what I need - someone to help get my sorry arse out of bed in the mornings! Anyway, after a whole lot of griping and trying to get dressed without physically moving out of the bed, I was awoken somewhat with the promise of a Subway breakfast. It was like a military operation: "We have T-minus-10 minutes to sit down and eat this breakfast...... Right, we have T-minus-2 minutes to get me home!" etc....
Well, he got me home on time, somewhat bleary-eyed, despite Mum making me promise I "wouldn't have a late night" or "come home exhausted." Hmmm, subtle! I think it's fairly obvious by now what I'm up to, but we still talk in code and play the game. She knows, and I know she knows. It's just better to keep up the decency and pretend otherwise. Before Grandma arrived, we did have "The Talk," though. Or a slightly stunted version of it. Observe:
"Kat, you will use protection, won't you?"
(*vociferously*) "Of course! Goes without saying."
"Good girl. Right, come help me clean the oven." (*wanders off*)
And that was it. Slightly unfair though, that the one time I DIDN'T have sex was the time I came home knackered from an allergy-related awakening. If I'm going to be exhausted and sleep-deprived, I want it to be for a good reason, dammit!
Anyway, Grandma arrived, and the day was fun. We pretty much spent the whole day preparing and cleaning the house (for the 8th time) and getting food ready for the dinner party we had on Saturday night (which, incidentally, was AMAZING and something of a seafood-fest). Mum said I was very welcome to invite Joe to the party on Sunday - which I had abstained from doing, as I thought he wouldn't want to "meet the parents" quite so soon. Apparently he didn't mind.
Alors, SUNDAY rolled around, complete with the usual pre-event occurances in the O'Donnell household - Grandma criticising my hair, last-minute inter-parental bickering, and masses of hoovering and food laying-out. 3 oclock came, the guests started arriving, and from then on, we were all in "host" mode. I have to say, I do kind of like "Host" mode - not matter how rubbish you feel or whatever illnesses (or allergies) you have, it all vanishes when you open the door with a smile on your face, offering a drink. Or maybe it was because I took about 3 times the normal dose of Loratidine to protect myself when in the garden - and spent pretty much all day medicated up to the eyeballs. Which probably explains why I didn't get drunk, despite having about 7 glasses of Rose' and 3 glasses of champagne. Intriguing!
Joe eventually showed up - looking like a Resevoir Dog, which was my fault. Turns out I'd severely misjudged the word "formal" - everyone else was in shorts and shirts. Ooops. He seemed incredibly nervous (understandably) but Mum and Dad warmed to him straight away - which I'm sure had NOTHING to do with the bottle of wine and bunch of flowers he came bearing! He even brought me a bunch of bright pink roses as a present "for getting better." Awwww! The old ones he gave me died about a week ago, but I risked waking up hayfeverish every morning to keep them in my room - loathe as I was to throw away the first flowers a guy's ever brought me.
Anyhow, he got introduced to people, (looking massively relieved to see Auntie and Dan again) and was generally all lovely and well-behaved. I kept throwing him anguished "Aaaaaargh, sorry to put you through this!" looks, especially when Grandma sat down right next to him and started chatting, but he seemed fine. Mum, typically, cooked almost ALL the food and desserts but had absolutely none herself, as she was playing the hostess all evening. I spent all afternoon and evening bobbing in and outdoors, sneezing my head off, watching as the parents got steadily more drunk.
Mum and Dad eventually got up to do their speech. I noticed (as predicted) that Mum said absolutely nothing about their marriage or any funny anecdotes, instead choosing to simply thank everyone for coming to the party. Although I did win a bet with Joe that the words "Here's to the next 25" would be spoken. Saw that one coming a MILE off! Dad didn't even get to say anything. Hmph.
Anyway, the evening wore on. The lovely playlist I'd spent all day creating specially for the adults (full of 60's, 70's, and general "their generation" music) was dismissed for Dad's Ipod - which, rather ironically, contained pretty much every song that hadn't yet been played on my playlist yet. Typical. Forget "Golden Brown" and "My Little Runaway," they wanted to dance to the likes of "Can't touch this" and the full, glorious, 15 minute-long version of "Rapper's Delight." Good times!
Joe and I eventually stole off to the lounge, confident that nobody would mind us nabbing a few moments. We colonized the sofa with "Red Dwarf" on in the background (as a cover story) and spent about half an hour kissing - which was particularly hilarious as he was desperately trying to practise his "self-control" (especially as he was in his "work" trousers - ie: tight). Oh and we finally had the "Proper" talk. Well, when I say that, I mean I, buoyed up by alcohol felt the need to ask the oh-so-articulate; "What's going on with us then? Are we together? Just seeing each other?" etc.... I wanted to know where I stood, which is reasonable enough, surely? But the good news is - I got the answer I was looking for. And so, for the first time in a year and a bit, with a guy she actually likes, Kat is in a relationship!!
After everyone had gone, Mum was catastrophically pissed from drinking on an empty stomach (something she spent all my uni years warning me against - irony is SWEEET) and nibbled at the remains of the buffet, before passing out on the sofa. So it was up to Muggins here to stay up till HALF 2 cleaning up. Strangely, I didn't mind, it was rather fun. I nabbed some leftovers, listened to the rest of my "Anniversary Party" playlist and eventually got the back room and kitchen spick and span, with a clean tablecloth and 2 bunches of flowers swooning in vases. With a glowing sense of pride, I returned to the lounge to force Mum to drink half a pint of water before dragging her arse up the stairs and putting her to bed. Which she promptly leapt out of to be sick. Oh dear.....
So yeah - Grandma left today (thankfully knowing nothing of Mum's wild ways), both her and Mum full of praise for my secret cleaning duties. Mum apologised like crazy for her behaviour and hoped she didn't embarrass me - which she didn't, so it was OK.
And thus ends another legendary O'Donnell celebration. Or "commiseration" as Mum so frequently joked last night. She should be careful, really, say something like that often enough and people might start thinking you're telling the truth.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: exhausted from cleaning
Current Music: "Golden Brown" - The Stranglers
So, today is Monday. And it finds me at the end of a very long and knackering weekend. I may not have mentioned, but yesterday was the official party for Mum's and Dad's Silver Wedding Anniversary. True to form, they didn't want to do "anything big" (nah..... 25 years of marriage, nothing to celebrate, really, is it? Bloody hell.) - but we still ended up spending WEEKS preparing, buying food, storing champagne...... Mum (in house-proud overdrive) even went a step further and redecorated the bathroom floor. See, that I don't get. These are their FRIENDS coming round for ONE afternoon - they KNOW what the bathroom looks like, they're not going to judge you! Not to mention I've heard enough inter-parental quarrels about money to wonder how this was afforded...... Whatever, anyway, I guess Mum knows best.
The days leading up to this blessed event were pretty hellish - Mum yelling all the time, jobs that needed doing, Dad getting frustrated with it all (me too, to be honest), etc.... etc.... Not to mention I got cystitis, which absolutely KILLED. Bloody typical. After a little online research, I discovered it was a condition known as "Honeymoon Cystitis" (there are different types, apparently) - which one can sometimes get as a result of "increased sexual activity." Well, I'd rather get that than an STD. So I have to abstain from sex and drink shit-loads of Cranberry juice for a while - and take these sachets dissolved in water that taste VILE and nearly make me throw up.
Deaf Class was a welcome escape on THURSDAY, I felt myself relax and smile at being able to sit next to Joe and let our legs secretly brush when people were looking the other way. We learnt "descriptive" words this week - the teacher praised how well he was able to sign the word "curvy." Hmmmm, I wonder why? Afterwards I was too fed-up to go home straight away, (not to mention starving, as I'd forgone tea to dye my hair) so we went for a curry again. He was remarkably understanding about the cystitis - which I'd told him about earlier - and even laughed about it, saying he'd had a look online after I told him and found the same article about "Honeymoon" Cystitis - and that it was all his fault. Well, quite.
FRIDAY was nowt special. Dossed around all day, emailing off the usual flurry of over-enthusiastic job applications. The evening was fun, though - despite me being sent off with Mum's ringing threats that Grandmas was coming over tomorrow and I had to be home by 10 oclock AT THE LATEST OR ELSE, etc... etc... Having chucked an overnight bag in the boot, I introduced Joe to the magical experience of TGI Fridays, which he'd never been to before. Needless to say, he loved it (I'm sure the fact that I was wearing the Boob Monster had nothing to do with it.....). It's so much better now they've toned down on the hyperactiveness and pseudo-Americanism. Had 3 AMAZING courses and stared around at the exciting hubbub of birthday songs left right and centre, a stag do, and the general happiness that seemed to swirl like oxygen in places like that.
Had a good long talk about Mum and how crazy the execution of the party was driving us all. I will say this - he sure knows how to listen. And he even said I wasn't boring him! OK, I know no-one ever REALLY admites when you're boring them, but still...... damn.
Went back to his after another trip to Tesco for the accquisition of cranberry juice and Newky Brown Ale (I didn't dare touch any alcohol in my cystitic state) - but my heart wasn't really in it. Actually, correction - my HEART was in it, but my body wasn't. Between the permanently painful bladder and the constant hayfeverific sneezing, sniffling and coughing, I was an absolute wreck. Managed to forget it slightly as we settled down in front of the hilarious "Scary Movie" but remained a wincing groaning snuffling wheezing wreck for the whole evening. Grrrr..... How the hell does he put up with me??
Still, it wasn't a completely wasted night - I felt fully justified in asking for a relaxing massage..... he was out the door and off to Tesco before I even got the words out. Lay down in front of "Family Guy" on BBC3, laughing my arse off, until he returned with a bottle of Baby oil. Fun times!
Saturday morning was pretty hellish - woke up at 6am with my nose on fire and my eyes streaming. Surely enough my moaning and flopping woke Joe, who leaped up to shut the window (damn candle smoke, ruining everything!) before trying to calm my whining bitching self down. Why he didn't just put a sleeper-hold on me, I'll never know. Anyway, got a bit more sleep before being woken at 9, because he knew I'd have trouble getting up. See, this is what I need - someone to help get my sorry arse out of bed in the mornings! Anyway, after a whole lot of griping and trying to get dressed without physically moving out of the bed, I was awoken somewhat with the promise of a Subway breakfast. It was like a military operation: "We have T-minus-10 minutes to sit down and eat this breakfast...... Right, we have T-minus-2 minutes to get me home!" etc....
Well, he got me home on time, somewhat bleary-eyed, despite Mum making me promise I "wouldn't have a late night" or "come home exhausted." Hmmm, subtle! I think it's fairly obvious by now what I'm up to, but we still talk in code and play the game. She knows, and I know she knows. It's just better to keep up the decency and pretend otherwise. Before Grandma arrived, we did have "The Talk," though. Or a slightly stunted version of it. Observe:
"Kat, you will use protection, won't you?"
(*vociferously*) "Of course! Goes without saying."
"Good girl. Right, come help me clean the oven." (*wanders off*)
And that was it. Slightly unfair though, that the one time I DIDN'T have sex was the time I came home knackered from an allergy-related awakening. If I'm going to be exhausted and sleep-deprived, I want it to be for a good reason, dammit!
Anyway, Grandma arrived, and the day was fun. We pretty much spent the whole day preparing and cleaning the house (for the 8th time) and getting food ready for the dinner party we had on Saturday night (which, incidentally, was AMAZING and something of a seafood-fest). Mum said I was very welcome to invite Joe to the party on Sunday - which I had abstained from doing, as I thought he wouldn't want to "meet the parents" quite so soon. Apparently he didn't mind.
Alors, SUNDAY rolled around, complete with the usual pre-event occurances in the O'Donnell household - Grandma criticising my hair, last-minute inter-parental bickering, and masses of hoovering and food laying-out. 3 oclock came, the guests started arriving, and from then on, we were all in "host" mode. I have to say, I do kind of like "Host" mode - not matter how rubbish you feel or whatever illnesses (or allergies) you have, it all vanishes when you open the door with a smile on your face, offering a drink. Or maybe it was because I took about 3 times the normal dose of Loratidine to protect myself when in the garden - and spent pretty much all day medicated up to the eyeballs. Which probably explains why I didn't get drunk, despite having about 7 glasses of Rose' and 3 glasses of champagne. Intriguing!
Joe eventually showed up - looking like a Resevoir Dog, which was my fault. Turns out I'd severely misjudged the word "formal" - everyone else was in shorts and shirts. Ooops. He seemed incredibly nervous (understandably) but Mum and Dad warmed to him straight away - which I'm sure had NOTHING to do with the bottle of wine and bunch of flowers he came bearing! He even brought me a bunch of bright pink roses as a present "for getting better." Awwww! The old ones he gave me died about a week ago, but I risked waking up hayfeverish every morning to keep them in my room - loathe as I was to throw away the first flowers a guy's ever brought me.
Anyhow, he got introduced to people, (looking massively relieved to see Auntie and Dan again) and was generally all lovely and well-behaved. I kept throwing him anguished "Aaaaaargh, sorry to put you through this!" looks, especially when Grandma sat down right next to him and started chatting, but he seemed fine. Mum, typically, cooked almost ALL the food and desserts but had absolutely none herself, as she was playing the hostess all evening. I spent all afternoon and evening bobbing in and outdoors, sneezing my head off, watching as the parents got steadily more drunk.
Mum and Dad eventually got up to do their speech. I noticed (as predicted) that Mum said absolutely nothing about their marriage or any funny anecdotes, instead choosing to simply thank everyone for coming to the party. Although I did win a bet with Joe that the words "Here's to the next 25" would be spoken. Saw that one coming a MILE off! Dad didn't even get to say anything. Hmph.
Anyway, the evening wore on. The lovely playlist I'd spent all day creating specially for the adults (full of 60's, 70's, and general "their generation" music) was dismissed for Dad's Ipod - which, rather ironically, contained pretty much every song that hadn't yet been played on my playlist yet. Typical. Forget "Golden Brown" and "My Little Runaway," they wanted to dance to the likes of "Can't touch this" and the full, glorious, 15 minute-long version of "Rapper's Delight." Good times!
Joe and I eventually stole off to the lounge, confident that nobody would mind us nabbing a few moments. We colonized the sofa with "Red Dwarf" on in the background (as a cover story) and spent about half an hour kissing - which was particularly hilarious as he was desperately trying to practise his "self-control" (especially as he was in his "work" trousers - ie: tight). Oh and we finally had the "Proper" talk. Well, when I say that, I mean I, buoyed up by alcohol felt the need to ask the oh-so-articulate; "What's going on with us then? Are we together? Just seeing each other?" etc.... I wanted to know where I stood, which is reasonable enough, surely? But the good news is - I got the answer I was looking for. And so, for the first time in a year and a bit, with a guy she actually likes, Kat is in a relationship!!
After everyone had gone, Mum was catastrophically pissed from drinking on an empty stomach (something she spent all my uni years warning me against - irony is SWEEET) and nibbled at the remains of the buffet, before passing out on the sofa. So it was up to Muggins here to stay up till HALF 2 cleaning up. Strangely, I didn't mind, it was rather fun. I nabbed some leftovers, listened to the rest of my "Anniversary Party" playlist and eventually got the back room and kitchen spick and span, with a clean tablecloth and 2 bunches of flowers swooning in vases. With a glowing sense of pride, I returned to the lounge to force Mum to drink half a pint of water before dragging her arse up the stairs and putting her to bed. Which she promptly leapt out of to be sick. Oh dear.....
So yeah - Grandma left today (thankfully knowing nothing of Mum's wild ways), both her and Mum full of praise for my secret cleaning duties. Mum apologised like crazy for her behaviour and hoped she didn't embarrass me - which she didn't, so it was OK.
And thus ends another legendary O'Donnell celebration. Or "commiseration" as Mum so frequently joked last night. She should be careful, really, say something like that often enough and people might start thinking you're telling the truth.....
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Current Mood: exhausted from cleaning
Current Music: "Golden Brown" - The Stranglers
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Not-so-Scary movies
Dear Diary,
Hung out with Joe again last night. I was initially worrying that he would think I was some dossing loser with absolutely no life other than seeing him (which, technically, I AM, but I don't want him knowing!) - but it's always him who invites me out anyway, thank goodness.
We went to his to watch a DVD - being that it would be completely impossible to do so in my parents house. You can guarantee there'd be absolutely no shut doors allowed, we'd have to watch it downstairs, and obviously no sex!
Stopped off at Tesco to stock up on wine for me, beer for him, and munchies. Bumped into the Landlord from work, which was fairly embarrassing as I got a certain amount of ribbing about Joe (who sensibly wandered into the next aisle) and questions about what we were up to. I'd borrowed a banned video nasty called "Zombie Flesh Eaters" off Joe about a week ago, but never got round to watching it - so we were off to his to do so. Which prompted a huge amount of piss-taking - along the theme off (*falsetto voice*) "Oh, Joe, I'm so scared, can I hold onto you?" etc... etc...
No such luck, as it happens, the film was absolutely appalling. It was more funny to begin with, as we sat watching it for 15 minutes with an entirely red screen, marvelling at the revolutionary cinematic techniques of the 80's, before we realised the DVD player just need a quick bang. But as for the film - "video nasty," my arse! It was complete rubbish, I was bored out of my mind all the way through, and the gore totalled at about 4 minutes altogether. I actually gave up about halfway through and just concentrated on talking instead. See, I know that cinema-goers back in the 70's and 80's weren't used to the hardcore stuff the kids of today are used to, but at least with "The Exorcist" or "The Evil Dead" I can see WHY they were banned. But this? Utter. Tripe.
As for Joe - well, would you believe it, he'd not only tidied his room, but also bought a gorgeous fleecy throw for his bed, and placed about 30 of those little tea-light candles (lavender, as well!) ALL around the room. Some may call it a romantic gesture - as I recall, it was Alice (or Lisa. Or both) who said that a guy with candles or incense in his room is DEFINATELY looking to get some sex. Fair play to him, at least he admitted it! Although I found out the hard way that he has an UNFEASIBLY squeaky bed - and his brother's bedroom is right on the other side of the wall. Have you ever tried staying as still as possible during sex so as not to produce any undue embarrassing noise? It's pretty damned difficult. We put the fleecy throw on the floor instead, but I still couldn't shake off the fear of being overheard. If only one of us had our own place!
Afterwards, he drove me home, not a hair out of place, and a smile on my face. With a Tesco bag filled with untouched treats and eats from our earlier run. Was I really given a GOODY BAG?? Yikes. Apparently he finished off my wine when he got in. Hmph!
Apart from that, still nothing else fun or indeed interesting in my life to report. Darren's wife came over from Switzerland, she's staying till Monday - so Mum's being taking her out and showing her a good time. We went for lunch at S*******'s which was pretty damned gorgeous.
Oh, and I have work tonight. That is all.
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Current Mood: worn out
Current Music: "Porcelain" - Moby
Hung out with Joe again last night. I was initially worrying that he would think I was some dossing loser with absolutely no life other than seeing him (which, technically, I AM, but I don't want him knowing!) - but it's always him who invites me out anyway, thank goodness.
We went to his to watch a DVD - being that it would be completely impossible to do so in my parents house. You can guarantee there'd be absolutely no shut doors allowed, we'd have to watch it downstairs, and obviously no sex!
Stopped off at Tesco to stock up on wine for me, beer for him, and munchies. Bumped into the Landlord from work, which was fairly embarrassing as I got a certain amount of ribbing about Joe (who sensibly wandered into the next aisle) and questions about what we were up to. I'd borrowed a banned video nasty called "Zombie Flesh Eaters" off Joe about a week ago, but never got round to watching it - so we were off to his to do so. Which prompted a huge amount of piss-taking - along the theme off (*falsetto voice*) "Oh, Joe, I'm so scared, can I hold onto you?" etc... etc...
No such luck, as it happens, the film was absolutely appalling. It was more funny to begin with, as we sat watching it for 15 minutes with an entirely red screen, marvelling at the revolutionary cinematic techniques of the 80's, before we realised the DVD player just need a quick bang. But as for the film - "video nasty," my arse! It was complete rubbish, I was bored out of my mind all the way through, and the gore totalled at about 4 minutes altogether. I actually gave up about halfway through and just concentrated on talking instead. See, I know that cinema-goers back in the 70's and 80's weren't used to the hardcore stuff the kids of today are used to, but at least with "The Exorcist" or "The Evil Dead" I can see WHY they were banned. But this? Utter. Tripe.
As for Joe - well, would you believe it, he'd not only tidied his room, but also bought a gorgeous fleecy throw for his bed, and placed about 30 of those little tea-light candles (lavender, as well!) ALL around the room. Some may call it a romantic gesture - as I recall, it was Alice (or Lisa. Or both) who said that a guy with candles or incense in his room is DEFINATELY looking to get some sex. Fair play to him, at least he admitted it! Although I found out the hard way that he has an UNFEASIBLY squeaky bed - and his brother's bedroom is right on the other side of the wall. Have you ever tried staying as still as possible during sex so as not to produce any undue embarrassing noise? It's pretty damned difficult. We put the fleecy throw on the floor instead, but I still couldn't shake off the fear of being overheard. If only one of us had our own place!
Afterwards, he drove me home, not a hair out of place, and a smile on my face. With a Tesco bag filled with untouched treats and eats from our earlier run. Was I really given a GOODY BAG?? Yikes. Apparently he finished off my wine when he got in. Hmph!
Apart from that, still nothing else fun or indeed interesting in my life to report. Darren's wife came over from Switzerland, she's staying till Monday - so Mum's being taking her out and showing her a good time. We went for lunch at S*******'s which was pretty damned gorgeous.
Oh, and I have work tonight. That is all.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: worn out
Current Music: "Porcelain" - Moby
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Revelations and Confessions
Dear Diary,
Last night (Monday) was AWESOME. A certain.... revelation took place. Joe asked if I wanted to go out for a meal (another?? I'll be the size of a house at this rate!) in the evening, so we ended up going to La Tasca in town. It was weird walking along all dressed up through GhostTown on a Monday night, but I hadn't experienced Tapas since the once in Barcelona a few years ago at Alice's birthday meal, so needless to say I was curious and excited all at once. And we got a deal with a bottle of Rose' wine! Which, as he was driving, I pretty much ended up nearly drinking all to myself...... Ah, what a classy bird I am.
Anyway, the revelation came afterwards. Or confession, I don't know the appropriate word in this circumstance. So, we were pulled up outside my house in his car - the curtains, as expected, twitching every 5 minutes. We chatted for ages, me a little tipsy from the wine, playing out our goodbyes in a ridiculously long way (given that we were seeing each other again in a mere 15 hours). And, as before, I can't remember how this conversation started - presumably I made some kind of "I can't wait to jump your bones tomorrow" statement. And then it began:
Him: "So is the sex all you're gonna miss, then?"
Me: "I'm.... sorry?"
Him: "Oh god, sorry, that was a really fucking rude thing to say.... I'm so sorry..... I...."
Me: "No no, it's..... what were you saying?"
Him: "Nothing.... forget I said anything!"
Me: "Did you just ask if the sex was the only thing I'd miss about you?"
Him: "Um....... maybe?"
Me: "You did, didn't you?"
Him: "Yes....."
Me: "Well, I hope you don't mind me saying, but.... well, for me, I thought it was about more than sex...."
Him: "Yeah, I did too."
Me: "Really? Cos, obviously I don't mind if you DO just want it to be about sex...."
Him: "No, not at all! I really...... um..... I really like you, and I love just hanging out with you - obviously the sex is great too, that is a ..... bonus, if you like, but..... you know....."
Me: "So..... it's NOT just about the sex then?"
Him: "No. Unless you want it to be?"
Me: "No, not at all! Just wanted to know where I stood!"
Him: (*smile) "Cool"
Originally I felt kinda stupid for pushing the issue, but now I'm just glad. Because at least now I don't have to follow all the rules for this sort of thing - you know: do I just talk about sex all the time, can I relax and talk normally without flirts and innuendos? etc... etc... But at least I know it's about more than sex. Somehow, weirdly, that makes me feel lighter. God knows why. Maybe it's some kinda Freudian response to all the (not terribly good) sex I was having left right and centre last year. I don't feel quite so pressured now I can relax and focus on the other aspects of getting to know a man - like talking, and having a laugh and doing non-sexual things together. Blimey, is this what I've been missing out on all this time?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: slightly stunned
Current Music: "Everybody wants to rule the world" - Tears for Fears
Last night (Monday) was AWESOME. A certain.... revelation took place. Joe asked if I wanted to go out for a meal (another?? I'll be the size of a house at this rate!) in the evening, so we ended up going to La Tasca in town. It was weird walking along all dressed up through GhostTown on a Monday night, but I hadn't experienced Tapas since the once in Barcelona a few years ago at Alice's birthday meal, so needless to say I was curious and excited all at once. And we got a deal with a bottle of Rose' wine! Which, as he was driving, I pretty much ended up nearly drinking all to myself...... Ah, what a classy bird I am.
Anyway, the revelation came afterwards. Or confession, I don't know the appropriate word in this circumstance. So, we were pulled up outside my house in his car - the curtains, as expected, twitching every 5 minutes. We chatted for ages, me a little tipsy from the wine, playing out our goodbyes in a ridiculously long way (given that we were seeing each other again in a mere 15 hours). And, as before, I can't remember how this conversation started - presumably I made some kind of "I can't wait to jump your bones tomorrow" statement. And then it began:
Him: "So is the sex all you're gonna miss, then?"
Me: "I'm.... sorry?"
Him: "Oh god, sorry, that was a really fucking rude thing to say.... I'm so sorry..... I...."
Me: "No no, it's..... what were you saying?"
Him: "Nothing.... forget I said anything!"
Me: "Did you just ask if the sex was the only thing I'd miss about you?"
Him: "Um....... maybe?"
Me: "You did, didn't you?"
Him: "Yes....."
Me: "Well, I hope you don't mind me saying, but.... well, for me, I thought it was about more than sex...."
Him: "Yeah, I did too."
Me: "Really? Cos, obviously I don't mind if you DO just want it to be about sex...."
Him: "No, not at all! I really...... um..... I really like you, and I love just hanging out with you - obviously the sex is great too, that is a ..... bonus, if you like, but..... you know....."
Me: "So..... it's NOT just about the sex then?"
Him: "No. Unless you want it to be?"
Me: "No, not at all! Just wanted to know where I stood!"
Him: (*smile) "Cool"
Originally I felt kinda stupid for pushing the issue, but now I'm just glad. Because at least now I don't have to follow all the rules for this sort of thing - you know: do I just talk about sex all the time, can I relax and talk normally without flirts and innuendos? etc... etc... But at least I know it's about more than sex. Somehow, weirdly, that makes me feel lighter. God knows why. Maybe it's some kinda Freudian response to all the (not terribly good) sex I was having left right and centre last year. I don't feel quite so pressured now I can relax and focus on the other aspects of getting to know a man - like talking, and having a laugh and doing non-sexual things together. Blimey, is this what I've been missing out on all this time?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: slightly stunned
Current Music: "Everybody wants to rule the world" - Tears for Fears
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Weekend long date
Dear Diary,
This weekend was fun. Somehow, despite being unemployed, the weekend feels different - in a good way. I can't understand why, as all days feel exactly the same at the moment. It can't be a subconcious desire to spend more time with my parents - frankly I wouldn't mind if I didn't see them for a week or so - Mum's really been pecking my head lately...... for a change.
FRIDAY
It's been nice hanging out with Joe and not just because it gets me out the house for 3 days. We arranged to "do something" on Friday, luckily Steve texted me and told me they were playing a gig in town again, which I invited Joe to. UNluckily, I was feeling shitty, knackered and really run-down, so when Joe came to pick me up after my shower (Mum and Dad were out) I invited him in, thrusting a bottle of baby oil at him and practically pleading for a massage. 3 hours later and I was having to run around the spare room removing evidence and texting Steve to apologise for missing the gig. Oh well, it was worth it! Felt better, anyway. Except for a horrifically embarrassing exchange almost immediately afterwards. I can't quite remember what we were talking about, but it ended with this:
Him: "Yeah, they always say that, that sometimes people in a relationship......"
Me: (*stopping in the doorway, with raised eyebrows*) "'Relationship,' eh?"
Him: "Oh no, I didn't mean...... god, sorry, I....."
Me: (*mortified*) "Shit, no..... erm..... look, forget I said that, OK?"
Him: "Yeah, I, erm..... so, moving on from the awkwardness......"
Me: (*uncomfortable laugh*) "Yeah....."
Sweet Jesus, have I learnt NOTHING??! Here I was thinking I know at least a few things about men, and I go and drop a big fucking clanger like THAT!! What is WRONG with me?? Oh well, at least I now know for a fact that it IS just about sex for him. Unless HE wants a relationship, but when I said that it gave the impressions that I DIDN'T?? Maybe he thinks I'M only in it for the sex? Oh my god, this is a minefield. I mean, I'm not bothered either way, but for a second I actually did think that's where we were headed.... Oh, who knows. I didn't dare ask.
After cleaning up and packing a bag, we left to go to his house. It would seem his parents don't bother him that much, or take much interest in who he brings back to the house. God, I envy that. If I brought him back to mine when the parents were in it would be questions and conversations galore, and the strict disapproval of any shut doors.
On the way to his we stopped off at Tesco for snacks and Domino's for pizza. My god, I fricking LOVE this guy, he's like a male me! (Although that possibily sounds quite narcissistic......) Once back at his we tucked ourselves up in bed, ate pizza and watched "Family Guy." This is SO what my life should be like.
SATURDAY
Saturday was pretty fantastic. Woke up with him kissing me, which frankly scared the shit out of me, as opposed to any romantic overtones. He said he'd had two activities planned this weekend, but the bad weather ruined one of them - which was a PICNIC!! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!! But there was another he had planned..... see if you can guess from the clues he gave me:
It's a seasonal sport
We had to go to Blackburn for it
It could be considered exercise
I had mentioned in passing that I'd been once and loved it.
There are TV shows based around it
I couldn't for the life of me guess - I thought it was horse-riding! But it wasn't. It was so much cooler (literally!). WE WENT ICE-SKATING!!! How AWESOME is that? He had to drive us to Blackburn and it was £13 but DAMN it was worth it! We drove to Subway for breakfast (SUBWAY for breakfast! The man is a GOD!) before zipping along the motorway, with me bouncing in my seat and squealing pretty much ALL the way there.
Sadly, the Torvil and Dean-esque grace and poise wasn't quite as easy as it looked - as we discovered. Within 4 seconds of his blades touching the ice, Joe went into hyperactive overdrive. We stood in the same position (clinging to the wall) for 20 minutes, both terrified to move, Joe's face set in stone as he angrily growled aloud exactly "what the hell he was thinking by bringing me here when he's never done this before in his life and how I'm totally gonna go right off him now I've seen how terrible he is at it."
I reassured him that it's madly difficult the first time, and that I felt exactly the same the first time I skated on ice, scared to move, angry at myself for even attempting it and stupid, as everyone else whizzed past. I convince him to follow me in just walking round the rink holding onto the wall. By the end of the first lap, he was smiling all over his face. After the second, I was able to walk in short bursts away from the wall. By the third he was skating ahead of me (still on the wall) whilst I pseudo-skated unaided next to him, gripping his hand. And by the time we were all called off the ice at 5 oclock, we were racing round the rink, trying to beat our record - with me wobbling-ly skating unaided, off the wall, humming "Bolero" to myself.
The embarrassing part? Joe has never been ice-skating, and he didn't fall over once. I've done it before and I fell over 3 TIMES. My god, that is humiliating. The first time I was trying to avoid crashing into him, the second time I was trying to avoid killing a small child by grabbing her head (causing me to swerve and face-plant the wall), and the third time I was so pleased at my ability to skate unaided that I whipped around to face him in a joyous and celebratory fit of girlish high spirits and promptly fell flat on my arse. Classy!
Our ankles felt like they'd snapped afterwards, but DAMN it was worth it! Joe seemed amazed at how quickly he's got the hang of it, thanked me over and over again for encouraging him to "man up" and learn the techniques, and really grateful to me for not "just skating off". Why on earth would I do that?? Anyway, we firmly agreed that we should go back again some time and maybe - just maybe - become good enough to attempt the stunts being graituously displayed by the show-off chavvy gay-boys (I mean, talented young men) in the middle of the rink.
Afterwards we went to Pizza Hut, knackered and starving for an indecently huge stuffed crust, before sailing home (well, back to his, anyway). We hung out for a while, with me checking my phone every 5 minutes in case work rang (to help cope with the masses from the park gig). When it got to 11pm and there was still nothing, we decided to catch a late night film, "Tormented." Not that much to say about it, really, except 3 words: "Straight to DVD." I'll probably review it some other time.
So, we came home and went to bed. He kept calling me "beerushka" a lot, but wouldn't tell me what it meant all weekend. Hmph. Presumably it's Czech, given that I was asking him to speak it - I do love languages, it has to be said. Unless it turns out he was calling me a "giant squid" or a "massive testicle." Ah, Europe.
SUNDAY
Sunday was nice - one of those days where you do sweet bollock-all but actually enjoy it. We stayed in bed till about 3 oclock (not in that context, you deviants) watching "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," and "Southpark" and eating leftover Pizza Hut pizza. I discovered something strangely alarming yet exciting - it turns out I am sleeping with a man who did the voice for an episode of "Salad Fingers." Have you ever seen it? It's an online YouTube sensation and it's absolutely fucking terrifying. Salad Fingers lives alone, has a penchant for rusty objects, has a voice like a paedophile and gets into a bunch of highly unusual scrapes every episode to the backdrop of creepy artwork and the most terrifying music I've ever encountered. As it happens the creator is an accquaintance of Joe's and one day asked him in to do the voice for this episode. Holy crap. I am sleeping with a man who voiced one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. I felt star-struck and alarmed all at once.
Went home about half 4 - Mum spotted a lovebite on my neck within about 5 seconds of me walking through the door. CRAP!!!! (And also: HOW??! It was so faint I couldn't even see it!) She said disgustedly that only "common" people did that, and I'm not "a sixteen year-old." OK, for starters, I never had anything like a normal 16 year-old's life, I didn't hang out properly with boys till I was 17, so 'scuse the hell out of me for catching up a litte. And for goodness' sake, I didn't do it so I could have a "trophy," he didn't "force" it upon me either, I let him do it because I find it madly sexy and passionate and I happen to have something of a vampire fetish. Obviously I didn't say any of that out loud.
After a lovely roast dinner, I pulled up our deckchair and sat in the garden, listening to the strains of the band's songs wafting over from the park. They sang all my favourite songs, and ended on..... wait for it...... "I am the Walrus." YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! It rained all the way through, but I went indoors a very happy bunny indeed.
Got a message from Joe after a huge bout of texts (mostly exclaiming over when my favourite songs were played) saying; "Sleep well, Beruska." So THAT'S how you spell it! It took a while, due to not knowing exactly where certain accents/inflections went, but eventually managed to look it up - it means "ladybird." Awwww.
And yes - I'm fully aware that if this was some other woman's blog I'd stumbled across, I would right now be feeling a little sickened with a touch of "get-a-room"-ness. For which I can only apologize. Although I won't deny that it's quite nice to have a nickname. Apart from the one the followed me through high school (which is now my email address), I never really had a nickname. Unless you count "Katrinus the Wacky Penis." And THAT is why you should never be friends with boys at the age of 13.
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Current Mood: tired but peaceful
Current Music: "Disturbia" - Rhianna
This weekend was fun. Somehow, despite being unemployed, the weekend feels different - in a good way. I can't understand why, as all days feel exactly the same at the moment. It can't be a subconcious desire to spend more time with my parents - frankly I wouldn't mind if I didn't see them for a week or so - Mum's really been pecking my head lately...... for a change.
FRIDAY
It's been nice hanging out with Joe and not just because it gets me out the house for 3 days. We arranged to "do something" on Friday, luckily Steve texted me and told me they were playing a gig in town again, which I invited Joe to. UNluckily, I was feeling shitty, knackered and really run-down, so when Joe came to pick me up after my shower (Mum and Dad were out) I invited him in, thrusting a bottle of baby oil at him and practically pleading for a massage. 3 hours later and I was having to run around the spare room removing evidence and texting Steve to apologise for missing the gig. Oh well, it was worth it! Felt better, anyway. Except for a horrifically embarrassing exchange almost immediately afterwards. I can't quite remember what we were talking about, but it ended with this:
Him: "Yeah, they always say that, that sometimes people in a relationship......"
Me: (*stopping in the doorway, with raised eyebrows*) "'Relationship,' eh?"
Him: "Oh no, I didn't mean...... god, sorry, I....."
Me: (*mortified*) "Shit, no..... erm..... look, forget I said that, OK?"
Him: "Yeah, I, erm..... so, moving on from the awkwardness......"
Me: (*uncomfortable laugh*) "Yeah....."
Sweet Jesus, have I learnt NOTHING??! Here I was thinking I know at least a few things about men, and I go and drop a big fucking clanger like THAT!! What is WRONG with me?? Oh well, at least I now know for a fact that it IS just about sex for him. Unless HE wants a relationship, but when I said that it gave the impressions that I DIDN'T?? Maybe he thinks I'M only in it for the sex? Oh my god, this is a minefield. I mean, I'm not bothered either way, but for a second I actually did think that's where we were headed.... Oh, who knows. I didn't dare ask.
After cleaning up and packing a bag, we left to go to his house. It would seem his parents don't bother him that much, or take much interest in who he brings back to the house. God, I envy that. If I brought him back to mine when the parents were in it would be questions and conversations galore, and the strict disapproval of any shut doors.
On the way to his we stopped off at Tesco for snacks and Domino's for pizza. My god, I fricking LOVE this guy, he's like a male me! (Although that possibily sounds quite narcissistic......) Once back at his we tucked ourselves up in bed, ate pizza and watched "Family Guy." This is SO what my life should be like.
SATURDAY
Saturday was pretty fantastic. Woke up with him kissing me, which frankly scared the shit out of me, as opposed to any romantic overtones. He said he'd had two activities planned this weekend, but the bad weather ruined one of them - which was a PICNIC!! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!! But there was another he had planned..... see if you can guess from the clues he gave me:
It's a seasonal sport
We had to go to Blackburn for it
It could be considered exercise
I had mentioned in passing that I'd been once and loved it.
There are TV shows based around it
I couldn't for the life of me guess - I thought it was horse-riding! But it wasn't. It was so much cooler (literally!). WE WENT ICE-SKATING!!! How AWESOME is that? He had to drive us to Blackburn and it was £13 but DAMN it was worth it! We drove to Subway for breakfast (SUBWAY for breakfast! The man is a GOD!) before zipping along the motorway, with me bouncing in my seat and squealing pretty much ALL the way there.
Sadly, the Torvil and Dean-esque grace and poise wasn't quite as easy as it looked - as we discovered. Within 4 seconds of his blades touching the ice, Joe went into hyperactive overdrive. We stood in the same position (clinging to the wall) for 20 minutes, both terrified to move, Joe's face set in stone as he angrily growled aloud exactly "what the hell he was thinking by bringing me here when he's never done this before in his life and how I'm totally gonna go right off him now I've seen how terrible he is at it."
I reassured him that it's madly difficult the first time, and that I felt exactly the same the first time I skated on ice, scared to move, angry at myself for even attempting it and stupid, as everyone else whizzed past. I convince him to follow me in just walking round the rink holding onto the wall. By the end of the first lap, he was smiling all over his face. After the second, I was able to walk in short bursts away from the wall. By the third he was skating ahead of me (still on the wall) whilst I pseudo-skated unaided next to him, gripping his hand. And by the time we were all called off the ice at 5 oclock, we were racing round the rink, trying to beat our record - with me wobbling-ly skating unaided, off the wall, humming "Bolero" to myself.
The embarrassing part? Joe has never been ice-skating, and he didn't fall over once. I've done it before and I fell over 3 TIMES. My god, that is humiliating. The first time I was trying to avoid crashing into him, the second time I was trying to avoid killing a small child by grabbing her head (causing me to swerve and face-plant the wall), and the third time I was so pleased at my ability to skate unaided that I whipped around to face him in a joyous and celebratory fit of girlish high spirits and promptly fell flat on my arse. Classy!
Our ankles felt like they'd snapped afterwards, but DAMN it was worth it! Joe seemed amazed at how quickly he's got the hang of it, thanked me over and over again for encouraging him to "man up" and learn the techniques, and really grateful to me for not "just skating off". Why on earth would I do that?? Anyway, we firmly agreed that we should go back again some time and maybe - just maybe - become good enough to attempt the stunts being graituously displayed by the show-off chavvy gay-boys (I mean, talented young men) in the middle of the rink.
Afterwards we went to Pizza Hut, knackered and starving for an indecently huge stuffed crust, before sailing home (well, back to his, anyway). We hung out for a while, with me checking my phone every 5 minutes in case work rang (to help cope with the masses from the park gig). When it got to 11pm and there was still nothing, we decided to catch a late night film, "Tormented." Not that much to say about it, really, except 3 words: "Straight to DVD." I'll probably review it some other time.
So, we came home and went to bed. He kept calling me "beerushka" a lot, but wouldn't tell me what it meant all weekend. Hmph. Presumably it's Czech, given that I was asking him to speak it - I do love languages, it has to be said. Unless it turns out he was calling me a "giant squid" or a "massive testicle." Ah, Europe.
SUNDAY
Sunday was nice - one of those days where you do sweet bollock-all but actually enjoy it. We stayed in bed till about 3 oclock (not in that context, you deviants) watching "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," and "Southpark" and eating leftover Pizza Hut pizza. I discovered something strangely alarming yet exciting - it turns out I am sleeping with a man who did the voice for an episode of "Salad Fingers." Have you ever seen it? It's an online YouTube sensation and it's absolutely fucking terrifying. Salad Fingers lives alone, has a penchant for rusty objects, has a voice like a paedophile and gets into a bunch of highly unusual scrapes every episode to the backdrop of creepy artwork and the most terrifying music I've ever encountered. As it happens the creator is an accquaintance of Joe's and one day asked him in to do the voice for this episode. Holy crap. I am sleeping with a man who voiced one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. I felt star-struck and alarmed all at once.
Went home about half 4 - Mum spotted a lovebite on my neck within about 5 seconds of me walking through the door. CRAP!!!! (And also: HOW??! It was so faint I couldn't even see it!) She said disgustedly that only "common" people did that, and I'm not "a sixteen year-old." OK, for starters, I never had anything like a normal 16 year-old's life, I didn't hang out properly with boys till I was 17, so 'scuse the hell out of me for catching up a litte. And for goodness' sake, I didn't do it so I could have a "trophy," he didn't "force" it upon me either, I let him do it because I find it madly sexy and passionate and I happen to have something of a vampire fetish. Obviously I didn't say any of that out loud.
After a lovely roast dinner, I pulled up our deckchair and sat in the garden, listening to the strains of the band's songs wafting over from the park. They sang all my favourite songs, and ended on..... wait for it...... "I am the Walrus." YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! It rained all the way through, but I went indoors a very happy bunny indeed.
Got a message from Joe after a huge bout of texts (mostly exclaiming over when my favourite songs were played) saying; "Sleep well, Beruska." So THAT'S how you spell it! It took a while, due to not knowing exactly where certain accents/inflections went, but eventually managed to look it up - it means "ladybird." Awwww.
And yes - I'm fully aware that if this was some other woman's blog I'd stumbled across, I would right now be feeling a little sickened with a touch of "get-a-room"-ness. For which I can only apologize. Although I won't deny that it's quite nice to have a nickname. Apart from the one the followed me through high school (which is now my email address), I never really had a nickname. Unless you count "Katrinus the Wacky Penis." And THAT is why you should never be friends with boys at the age of 13.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: tired but peaceful
Current Music: "Disturbia" - Rhianna
Thursday, 4 June 2009
Once again....
Dear Diary,
For some reason, I'm in a completely non-blogging mood at the moment. I don't know why, but I'm spending all my time in a complete state of lethargy - everything from blogging to job-searching is just taking a collossal amount of energy. All I can think about doing is seeing Joe again, and it's driving me mad. I don't want to be the kind of person who focuses on nothing but her fella, and I'm sure it's possibly an unappealing trait. But truly, I have so little else to focus on at the moment - I wish it wasn't true, but it is. Hmph.
Work last night was nothing to write home about. Apart from the cracking tips I made (I broke the £5 barrier! Woo!), and the fact that a band of local boys who ended up becoming massively sucessful are coming to grace our nearby park with their presence this weekend. It was ALL anybody in the pub could talk about. Not in a good way sadly, all they could do was moan about the trouble it'd cause, the weekend it would ruin and the sheer darned stupidity of it all. Yeah, never mind that one of the most famous bands IN THE WORLD is coming to our little village in what could be the most exciting event this one-horse town has seen in, oh, I don't know, the last 20 YEARS??! Tsk, senior citizens. They're never happy about anything.
I, for one, will be there with BELLS on. Or rather, sat in the back garden with a glass of wine, listening to the strains of their 90's anthems floating over the neighbourhood. The park is only round the corner from where I live - and if we could hear the soundcheck well enough from the PUB, it stands to reason I'll have a fantastic seat at my house. I won't be able to SEE them as such, but fuck it, I know what they look like - what more do I need?
Moving onto tonight, which was...... interesting, to say the least. Went to Deaf class as usual - wondering exactly what the rules were between Joe and I..... considering that last time I saw him we were lying semi-naked in his Saab. Well, it was fine. In fact, it was more than fine - we swapped vomit-inducingly cheeky texts and spoke in our own little code...... hiding in plain sight, asking questions and revealing titbits we already knew about each other, inside-joking right under the noses of our classmates. It was weirdly exciting, if I'm honest.
Oh, and my first exam date is set - 9th of July. Eep.
Once out on the street after class, we shared a private kiss, went for a drink and decided to go for a curry - for some reason I was starving, despite having tea earlier. It was lovely, though - we chattered over a prawn korma about our families and the sign language exam. Afterwards he drove us down an incredibly long dark and bumpy road to a lay-by near the motorway for some "alone time." The car bonnet was involved, and that's all I'm saying! Although I may now have a cold.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
P.S: Strange but true fact of the day - I have discovered, after a little online research, that a fear I've had since I was a child, a fear that has always stuck with me, and caused Mum to constantly tell me to "grow up and stop being melodramatic" - is in fact a highly uncommon, but recognised phobia. I am TERRIFIED of balloons - mostly when they pop, but especially the look of them, the noise they make as they drift eerily along, bumping into each other, and even worse - not KNOWING when they're going to pop. Forget the clown - this scene from "It" was the only part of the movie that scared me to death. Somehow knowing the name of this condition makes me feel legit, like I'm ALLOWED to be fearful after all. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have Globephobia.
Current Mood: pleasantly exhausted
Current Music: "Suede" - Tori Amos
For some reason, I'm in a completely non-blogging mood at the moment. I don't know why, but I'm spending all my time in a complete state of lethargy - everything from blogging to job-searching is just taking a collossal amount of energy. All I can think about doing is seeing Joe again, and it's driving me mad. I don't want to be the kind of person who focuses on nothing but her fella, and I'm sure it's possibly an unappealing trait. But truly, I have so little else to focus on at the moment - I wish it wasn't true, but it is. Hmph.
Work last night was nothing to write home about. Apart from the cracking tips I made (I broke the £5 barrier! Woo!), and the fact that a band of local boys who ended up becoming massively sucessful are coming to grace our nearby park with their presence this weekend. It was ALL anybody in the pub could talk about. Not in a good way sadly, all they could do was moan about the trouble it'd cause, the weekend it would ruin and the sheer darned stupidity of it all. Yeah, never mind that one of the most famous bands IN THE WORLD is coming to our little village in what could be the most exciting event this one-horse town has seen in, oh, I don't know, the last 20 YEARS??! Tsk, senior citizens. They're never happy about anything.
I, for one, will be there with BELLS on. Or rather, sat in the back garden with a glass of wine, listening to the strains of their 90's anthems floating over the neighbourhood. The park is only round the corner from where I live - and if we could hear the soundcheck well enough from the PUB, it stands to reason I'll have a fantastic seat at my house. I won't be able to SEE them as such, but fuck it, I know what they look like - what more do I need?
Moving onto tonight, which was...... interesting, to say the least. Went to Deaf class as usual - wondering exactly what the rules were between Joe and I..... considering that last time I saw him we were lying semi-naked in his Saab. Well, it was fine. In fact, it was more than fine - we swapped vomit-inducingly cheeky texts and spoke in our own little code...... hiding in plain sight, asking questions and revealing titbits we already knew about each other, inside-joking right under the noses of our classmates. It was weirdly exciting, if I'm honest.
Oh, and my first exam date is set - 9th of July. Eep.
Once out on the street after class, we shared a private kiss, went for a drink and decided to go for a curry - for some reason I was starving, despite having tea earlier. It was lovely, though - we chattered over a prawn korma about our families and the sign language exam. Afterwards he drove us down an incredibly long dark and bumpy road to a lay-by near the motorway for some "alone time." The car bonnet was involved, and that's all I'm saying! Although I may now have a cold.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
P.S: Strange but true fact of the day - I have discovered, after a little online research, that a fear I've had since I was a child, a fear that has always stuck with me, and caused Mum to constantly tell me to "grow up and stop being melodramatic" - is in fact a highly uncommon, but recognised phobia. I am TERRIFIED of balloons - mostly when they pop, but especially the look of them, the noise they make as they drift eerily along, bumping into each other, and even worse - not KNOWING when they're going to pop. Forget the clown - this scene from "It" was the only part of the movie that scared me to death. Somehow knowing the name of this condition makes me feel legit, like I'm ALLOWED to be fearful after all. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have Globephobia.
Current Mood: pleasantly exhausted
Current Music: "Suede" - Tori Amos
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Here in my car, I feel sexiest of all.....
Dear Diary,
I've changed my mind. YESTERDAY has become my happy place. Or more specifically, the inside of Joe's Saab. But I'm getting ahead of myself.....
Not much happened on Monday. I pottered round the house in my jimjams all day, tidying up so as to avoid ear-bashing upon Mum's return (with lodger Darren - it was his wife they were visiting) from La Gay France. When she did arrive home it was all very nice..... for about an hour anyway. She told us a hilarious story about getting her 20-euro tin of fois gras taken off her by airport security (she didn't seem to find it that funny) and wowed us all with tales of the weather, the cuisine, and the swimming pool. But after an hour or so, she was back to normal, questioning me about everything, criticising my ongoing lack of job and throwing "jokey" put-downs at Dad in front of Darren. I mean, come ON! She even asked why he hadn't trimmed the hedge while she was away. Bearing in mind that Dad had mown BOTH the gardens, tidied the entire garage, watered all the plants and helped tidy the whole house whilst only being home ONE AFTERNOON of the weekend. You could literally see his jaw drop in disbelief.
And at that moment, as much as I love Mum, I found myself just really really wishing she was back in France and I was miles away somewhere else, curled next to a warm body and falling asleep.
Managed to restrain myself from ringing Joe and begging to go over to his - mainly because I thought I ought to show more grit, but mostly because I can't stand the idea of sleeping at someone else's whilst it's the time of the month. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded, but we'd arranged to see each other Tuesday anyway.
(Told Mum all about Joe and our recent activities - excluding the sex, obviously - she doesn't seem as impressed as Dad, even when I mentioned all the romantic stuff. Oh well, wait till she meets him, then we'll see how polite she is!)
So Tuesday rolled around. Joe told me he had a surprise for me, he was taking me somewhere and I had to be ready by 7pm, dressed for the country. I wore a green leaf-patterned low-cut top, jeans and my leapord-spotted flats (Uninteresting, I know, but I like to remember these things) and we drove down the motorway, again, with the roof down. IT NEVER GETS OLD!!!! Ahem, scuse me......
Turns out he was taking me to an old favourite pub of his he used to go to before he moved to Czech (thank god I didn't eat tea beforehand). It wasn't REALLY in the country as such, but surrounded by fields and an incredible view of the Stockport/Manchester/Bury skyline, so might as well have been. We sat outside at the front, taking in the outstanding view and munching our way through a quickly-delivered magnificent 3-course pub meal. I was pretty much going into spasmic overdrive by then. (No I don't know what that means either, but it SOUNDS good, doesn't it?) So we talked, and talked some more.
As Joe and I continue to see more of each other, I'm learning several things about him that I never noticed to begin with. And as much as I really like him, there is one particular trait he has that drives me slightly mad. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it drives me up the wall. And I can honestly see now why people find ME so annoying sometimes - because I have the exact same trait.
He apologises for EVERYTHING. All the time. Whatever he's done, no matter how little someone else thinks of it, he thinks (and worries) about things too much. I recognised it straight away, and it alarms me because it's so familiar to me. No wonder I drive people barmy, I have to keep reassuring him all the time. I must say, it's a profoundly strange feeling to be the calm, un-flustered one for a change. It's quite nice, to be honest - I rather feel a new maturity about myself! And it makes me want to cuddle him a lot.
Anyway, we sat and watched the sun set over that wonderful skyline. It got chilly, so he took his jumper off and gave it me. And as I sat there, huddled in a man-jumper, looking at the red sun bleeding all over the sky and wiping up fudge cake-infused ice cream with my spoon, I found myself thinking something quite shocking - that the last time I could remember really feeling this happy (truly, not artificially) was when I watched the sun set over Paris from the Eiffel Tower with Lisa and Alice. Sadly, upon thinking this, I felt a little bit upset at the gravity of that thought, but thankfully my brain brushed it aside and focused on the happy instead.
Soon after retiring inside to warm back up, we decided to leave. And this is where it got a bit naughty. Maybe it was the gorgeous food, or the sunny evening/country air, I don't know, something got into me. Not like that, you filthy creatures! But after a fair amount of hinting and the realisation that it wasn't that late, we decided to take a little "detour," if you catch my drift..... His face was priceless - although I suppose my hand on his family jewels probably didn't help his driving concentration. Took us a while to find a quiet spot, but I have a feeling the position of my hand might've spurred him on, somewhat - not to mention we passed another car, the inhabitants of which clearly had the same thing on their minds.
Anyway, we soon pulled off the road towards a really nice massive pub/restaurant. The carpark was HUGE and deserted, but - despite Joe's assurances that hardly anyone goes there - I was too scared to venture in that far. So we pulled into a little alcove outside of the carpark, the seats pushed back. And, despite Joe's assurances that nobody goes there, we had about 38 cars drive past us. Figures.
We didn't have sex, obviously, (the logistical positioning was a nightmare as it was) but I was armed with condoms and did a pretty good job. Twice, if I'm honest! It was pretty funny, as I was terrified of getting caught and had to keep ducking and hiding everytime a car drove past, but then again, I suppose I did already have my head down..... Thank you, I'm here all week, try the steak! (God, I HAVE to stop laughing at my own jokes) I'm making light of it, but truthfully, it was pretty intense, especially as we weren't really able to do anymore than that, which made the restraint of it all wildly sexy.
Afterwards we lay in each others arms, him stroking my neck - which has the potential to sound madly romantic, were it not for the fact that he had to practically lie on the gearbox, and my chronic hayfever made me sniffle and sneeze every 5 seconds. My window was open, the night air evaporating the steam on the windows, and even though it was sending my hayfever into overdrive, I'd never felt so happy. Even though it was a complete pain and badly frustrating NOT to be able to have sex (*shakes fist at Mother Nature*) I was physically shaking afterwards. But at least I can be certain of one thing - the Spark is here to stay!
Not to mention I've had another romantic movie moment ("Titanic".....you know.... although it took every ounce of my restraint not to do the handprint thing - I'm a geek, I know) AND can scratch car-sex (kinda) off my "Things to do before I'm 30" list. Which I really should write down sometime....
It took forever, as none of us wanted to move, but we eventually managed to drive off. He dropped me at home, not a hair out of place and my top on the right way, as I bounced into the house, innocently telling Dad about staying "till Last Orders."
Eeeeeee, this is fun. I just really wish my fricking time of the month had picked another time of the month to arrive - namely NOT after we'd just discovered how much fun sex with each other was.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: reminiscent
Current Music: "Cars" - Gary Numan (it got stuck in my head, for some reason)
I've changed my mind. YESTERDAY has become my happy place. Or more specifically, the inside of Joe's Saab. But I'm getting ahead of myself.....
Not much happened on Monday. I pottered round the house in my jimjams all day, tidying up so as to avoid ear-bashing upon Mum's return (with lodger Darren - it was his wife they were visiting) from La Gay France. When she did arrive home it was all very nice..... for about an hour anyway. She told us a hilarious story about getting her 20-euro tin of fois gras taken off her by airport security (she didn't seem to find it that funny) and wowed us all with tales of the weather, the cuisine, and the swimming pool. But after an hour or so, she was back to normal, questioning me about everything, criticising my ongoing lack of job and throwing "jokey" put-downs at Dad in front of Darren. I mean, come ON! She even asked why he hadn't trimmed the hedge while she was away. Bearing in mind that Dad had mown BOTH the gardens, tidied the entire garage, watered all the plants and helped tidy the whole house whilst only being home ONE AFTERNOON of the weekend. You could literally see his jaw drop in disbelief.
And at that moment, as much as I love Mum, I found myself just really really wishing she was back in France and I was miles away somewhere else, curled next to a warm body and falling asleep.
Managed to restrain myself from ringing Joe and begging to go over to his - mainly because I thought I ought to show more grit, but mostly because I can't stand the idea of sleeping at someone else's whilst it's the time of the month. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded, but we'd arranged to see each other Tuesday anyway.
(Told Mum all about Joe and our recent activities - excluding the sex, obviously - she doesn't seem as impressed as Dad, even when I mentioned all the romantic stuff. Oh well, wait till she meets him, then we'll see how polite she is!)
So Tuesday rolled around. Joe told me he had a surprise for me, he was taking me somewhere and I had to be ready by 7pm, dressed for the country. I wore a green leaf-patterned low-cut top, jeans and my leapord-spotted flats (Uninteresting, I know, but I like to remember these things) and we drove down the motorway, again, with the roof down. IT NEVER GETS OLD!!!! Ahem, scuse me......
Turns out he was taking me to an old favourite pub of his he used to go to before he moved to Czech (thank god I didn't eat tea beforehand). It wasn't REALLY in the country as such, but surrounded by fields and an incredible view of the Stockport/Manchester/Bury skyline, so might as well have been. We sat outside at the front, taking in the outstanding view and munching our way through a quickly-delivered magnificent 3-course pub meal. I was pretty much going into spasmic overdrive by then. (No I don't know what that means either, but it SOUNDS good, doesn't it?) So we talked, and talked some more.
As Joe and I continue to see more of each other, I'm learning several things about him that I never noticed to begin with. And as much as I really like him, there is one particular trait he has that drives me slightly mad. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it drives me up the wall. And I can honestly see now why people find ME so annoying sometimes - because I have the exact same trait.
He apologises for EVERYTHING. All the time. Whatever he's done, no matter how little someone else thinks of it, he thinks (and worries) about things too much. I recognised it straight away, and it alarms me because it's so familiar to me. No wonder I drive people barmy, I have to keep reassuring him all the time. I must say, it's a profoundly strange feeling to be the calm, un-flustered one for a change. It's quite nice, to be honest - I rather feel a new maturity about myself! And it makes me want to cuddle him a lot.
Anyway, we sat and watched the sun set over that wonderful skyline. It got chilly, so he took his jumper off and gave it me. And as I sat there, huddled in a man-jumper, looking at the red sun bleeding all over the sky and wiping up fudge cake-infused ice cream with my spoon, I found myself thinking something quite shocking - that the last time I could remember really feeling this happy (truly, not artificially) was when I watched the sun set over Paris from the Eiffel Tower with Lisa and Alice. Sadly, upon thinking this, I felt a little bit upset at the gravity of that thought, but thankfully my brain brushed it aside and focused on the happy instead.
Soon after retiring inside to warm back up, we decided to leave. And this is where it got a bit naughty. Maybe it was the gorgeous food, or the sunny evening/country air, I don't know, something got into me. Not like that, you filthy creatures! But after a fair amount of hinting and the realisation that it wasn't that late, we decided to take a little "detour," if you catch my drift..... His face was priceless - although I suppose my hand on his family jewels probably didn't help his driving concentration. Took us a while to find a quiet spot, but I have a feeling the position of my hand might've spurred him on, somewhat - not to mention we passed another car, the inhabitants of which clearly had the same thing on their minds.
Anyway, we soon pulled off the road towards a really nice massive pub/restaurant. The carpark was HUGE and deserted, but - despite Joe's assurances that hardly anyone goes there - I was too scared to venture in that far. So we pulled into a little alcove outside of the carpark, the seats pushed back. And, despite Joe's assurances that nobody goes there, we had about 38 cars drive past us. Figures.
We didn't have sex, obviously, (the logistical positioning was a nightmare as it was) but I was armed with condoms and did a pretty good job. Twice, if I'm honest! It was pretty funny, as I was terrified of getting caught and had to keep ducking and hiding everytime a car drove past, but then again, I suppose I did already have my head down..... Thank you, I'm here all week, try the steak! (God, I HAVE to stop laughing at my own jokes) I'm making light of it, but truthfully, it was pretty intense, especially as we weren't really able to do anymore than that, which made the restraint of it all wildly sexy.
Afterwards we lay in each others arms, him stroking my neck - which has the potential to sound madly romantic, were it not for the fact that he had to practically lie on the gearbox, and my chronic hayfever made me sniffle and sneeze every 5 seconds. My window was open, the night air evaporating the steam on the windows, and even though it was sending my hayfever into overdrive, I'd never felt so happy. Even though it was a complete pain and badly frustrating NOT to be able to have sex (*shakes fist at Mother Nature*) I was physically shaking afterwards. But at least I can be certain of one thing - the Spark is here to stay!
Not to mention I've had another romantic movie moment ("Titanic".....you know.... although it took every ounce of my restraint not to do the handprint thing - I'm a geek, I know) AND can scratch car-sex (kinda) off my "Things to do before I'm 30" list. Which I really should write down sometime....
It took forever, as none of us wanted to move, but we eventually managed to drive off. He dropped me at home, not a hair out of place and my top on the right way, as I bounced into the house, innocently telling Dad about staying "till Last Orders."
Eeeeeee, this is fun. I just really wish my fricking time of the month had picked another time of the month to arrive - namely NOT after we'd just discovered how much fun sex with each other was.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: reminiscent
Current Music: "Cars" - Gary Numan (it got stuck in my head, for some reason)
Monday, 1 June 2009
Joys of Spring - Part 2
Dear Diary,
Before I continue, in response to a comment from Lisa, Joe is 25 years of age and owns a Saab. Not that that means anything, I can't tell the makes of cars from my elbow. But it is a Saab, and despite being a convertable/soft top/one of those where the roof goes back, he apparently got it for 500 quid. Anyway.....
SATURDAY (Cont....)
After hanging up, I raced around the bedroom, hiding the knife and rosary for fear of looking like a mental. To be honest, I didn't really think of tidying up my hair or make-up - as I wasn't planning on anything past getting him here and reassuring me that I wasn't going to get actually killed. Sex was the last thing on my mind, and yes, you may laugh, but in this case, it really was. I just wanted to not be alone, and if having him round and talking about mundane things would distract me, then so be it.
So, at 3am the doorbell rang, making me jump out of my skin. Answered the door in a Gay Pride t-shirt and my sheep pajama bottoms (sexy!), we went upstairs and sat on the bed talking for about an hour. He kept laughing at my PJs but reassuring me they were "cute" (JUST the image I was looking for....) and looking out the window for intruders or demons crawling up the drainpipe. You'll be glad to know, there were none.
Eventually, we decided to get some sleep. And, like I said, that is where I cracked. I was determined to hang on, determined to make him wait a little longer, and not give myself away so easily. But we started kissing, we couldn't stop kissing, and despite him being all respectful and frequently trying to hold back - I was the one who kept taking it forward. If that makes sense. The Spark had arrived for good, and dammit, this time I wasn't going to ignore it! Poor lad, he must've been pretty confused - I was sending out some very contradictory messages. I was like; "OK, the pajamas stay on!........ OK, the top's coming off...... but THAT'S ALL!!........ Fine, let's do that...... but listen, the underwear is staying on, and that's final! Oh fuck it..... there they go....." I just completely cracked, and I simply couldn't think of any reason not to. We were alone in the house and I was lying with a guy who had known me for longer than an hour and actually liked me for myself. I have to say it was a dizzying experience.
And this is the point where, as a natural blogger, I'm afraid I'm going to fail you. I was thinking the other day about how I'm going to write this - a part of me wants to write down every single glorious detail of that night, so I can always remember it in years to come. Part of me wants to make it another Brain/Vagina dialogue, to add a touch of humour. But the other part of me doesn't want to - mainly because I don't want to freak people out by being too graphic, but also because, for the first time in my life, I want to keep it to myself. Does that make sense? It's strange, especially when I think about all the one-night stands I've happily described. Well, I shall tell you this much:
We went to sleep at half 6
I had my first orgasm-with-someone-else-there (self-induced though, haven't quite achieved THAT goal yet!)
He can last an extrordinarily long time (how? HOW??!)
I was very relieved to discover he was bigger than I thought he was last Saturday
The condom broke - BUT thankfully right at the end when he was nowhere near me. Could've gone a whole lot worse, really!
I have mastered a new position
I will never be able to look at the shower again without blushing
He is a very considerate lover - and he was very surprised when I "took over" near the end. Well, what else was I supposed to do, just lie there and watch??
Acutally, come to think of it, some of that WAS quite graphic! My apologies. But I'm not sorry that it happened, I don't regret it, and whilst I possibly COULD have hung on a little longer, I'm kinda glad I didn't. Because it was worth it.
SUNDAY
Woke up Sunday morning, both in a very good mood, although not good enough to stretch to morning sex (probably cos we were knackered). He went to the petrol station round the corner to fetch some energy drinks for himself and a Diet Coke and SuperNoodles for me and we watched "Hostel 2" - which he hadn't seen, but got very excited about the fact that it was set in Slovakia (similar to where he lived in Czech). I got excited that he was able to translate some of the things they said. But then something happened that was scarier than any naked American getting sliced to death on-screen - Dad came home. All of a sudden we heard this knocking at the window - and looked up to see Dad there, waving at us. Joel must've jumped about a clean foot off the sofa, hastily pushing my legs off his lap and leaping up. It would've been hilarious if he wasn't so obviously nervous.
Anyway, Dad was cool, Joe was very polite, all handshakes and apologies for being in our house - but Dad just waved it off, being very pleasant. I was very proud, I must say! Anyway, he went round to Uncle B's, so we finished watching the film and decided to go out. I didn't own anything remotely sunny in my wardrobe sadly, so had to opt for a yellow Primark dress with the top buttons missing. Which meant there was a LOT of chest exposed..... oops. Decided to brave wearing my white wedges too, get me wearing heels when it's not even an occasion!
We went for a pub lunch down in the village, which was GORGEOUS. We discussed "last night" - he said he didn't regret it in the slightest and was incredibly glad we waited till we were both sober, as it was much better that way. The food was lovely, it was a glorious day.... and then everything was ruined by a certain "arrival." Which meant I had to forsake dessert (chocolate fudge cake! FUDGE CAKE!!!) and leg it home. GODDAMMIT!!!
Went to the local park in the afternoon, bought ice creams and wandered around, marvelling at the size of the place - which never fails to amaze me, despite living down the road from it all my life. Truth be told - it was one of the best afternoons ever, but for some strange reason - I don't feel like talking about it. I can't imagine why. Maybe I'm just in a lazy mood today. Having said that, we didn't get up to much - we just lay in the sun, wandering barefoot over the grass (any excuse to take the heels off) and talking about nothing in particular whilst watching the trees blow in the wind. It was heaven. Although we did have to stop touching each other every time a kid ran past - which, being a park, was pretty much every 2 minutes.
Didn't really want the day to end, but it was getting chilly and I was in pain, so he dropped me off later and I spent the evening curled in a grumpy painful ball on the sofa watching the "Britain's got Talent" final and eating sweets. Dad brought home a Chinese after the pub (despite us having had pizza for tea 2 hours ago..... I love Mum being away, all normal rules go out the window!) and said Joe seemed like a nice lad. Got a text from him later, saying: "This afternoon in the park has become my new happy place."
You and me both.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: lazy
Current Music: "Suck my Kiss" - Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Before I continue, in response to a comment from Lisa, Joe is 25 years of age and owns a Saab. Not that that means anything, I can't tell the makes of cars from my elbow. But it is a Saab, and despite being a convertable/soft top/one of those where the roof goes back, he apparently got it for 500 quid. Anyway.....
SATURDAY (Cont....)
After hanging up, I raced around the bedroom, hiding the knife and rosary for fear of looking like a mental. To be honest, I didn't really think of tidying up my hair or make-up - as I wasn't planning on anything past getting him here and reassuring me that I wasn't going to get actually killed. Sex was the last thing on my mind, and yes, you may laugh, but in this case, it really was. I just wanted to not be alone, and if having him round and talking about mundane things would distract me, then so be it.
So, at 3am the doorbell rang, making me jump out of my skin. Answered the door in a Gay Pride t-shirt and my sheep pajama bottoms (sexy!), we went upstairs and sat on the bed talking for about an hour. He kept laughing at my PJs but reassuring me they were "cute" (JUST the image I was looking for....) and looking out the window for intruders or demons crawling up the drainpipe. You'll be glad to know, there were none.
Eventually, we decided to get some sleep. And, like I said, that is where I cracked. I was determined to hang on, determined to make him wait a little longer, and not give myself away so easily. But we started kissing, we couldn't stop kissing, and despite him being all respectful and frequently trying to hold back - I was the one who kept taking it forward. If that makes sense. The Spark had arrived for good, and dammit, this time I wasn't going to ignore it! Poor lad, he must've been pretty confused - I was sending out some very contradictory messages. I was like; "OK, the pajamas stay on!........ OK, the top's coming off...... but THAT'S ALL!!........ Fine, let's do that...... but listen, the underwear is staying on, and that's final! Oh fuck it..... there they go....." I just completely cracked, and I simply couldn't think of any reason not to. We were alone in the house and I was lying with a guy who had known me for longer than an hour and actually liked me for myself. I have to say it was a dizzying experience.
And this is the point where, as a natural blogger, I'm afraid I'm going to fail you. I was thinking the other day about how I'm going to write this - a part of me wants to write down every single glorious detail of that night, so I can always remember it in years to come. Part of me wants to make it another Brain/Vagina dialogue, to add a touch of humour. But the other part of me doesn't want to - mainly because I don't want to freak people out by being too graphic, but also because, for the first time in my life, I want to keep it to myself. Does that make sense? It's strange, especially when I think about all the one-night stands I've happily described. Well, I shall tell you this much:
We went to sleep at half 6
I had my first orgasm-with-someone-else-there (self-induced though, haven't quite achieved THAT goal yet!)
He can last an extrordinarily long time (how? HOW??!)
I was very relieved to discover he was bigger than I thought he was last Saturday
The condom broke - BUT thankfully right at the end when he was nowhere near me. Could've gone a whole lot worse, really!
I have mastered a new position
I will never be able to look at the shower again without blushing
He is a very considerate lover - and he was very surprised when I "took over" near the end. Well, what else was I supposed to do, just lie there and watch??
Acutally, come to think of it, some of that WAS quite graphic! My apologies. But I'm not sorry that it happened, I don't regret it, and whilst I possibly COULD have hung on a little longer, I'm kinda glad I didn't. Because it was worth it.
SUNDAY
Woke up Sunday morning, both in a very good mood, although not good enough to stretch to morning sex (probably cos we were knackered). He went to the petrol station round the corner to fetch some energy drinks for himself and a Diet Coke and SuperNoodles for me and we watched "Hostel 2" - which he hadn't seen, but got very excited about the fact that it was set in Slovakia (similar to where he lived in Czech). I got excited that he was able to translate some of the things they said. But then something happened that was scarier than any naked American getting sliced to death on-screen - Dad came home. All of a sudden we heard this knocking at the window - and looked up to see Dad there, waving at us. Joel must've jumped about a clean foot off the sofa, hastily pushing my legs off his lap and leaping up. It would've been hilarious if he wasn't so obviously nervous.
Anyway, Dad was cool, Joe was very polite, all handshakes and apologies for being in our house - but Dad just waved it off, being very pleasant. I was very proud, I must say! Anyway, he went round to Uncle B's, so we finished watching the film and decided to go out. I didn't own anything remotely sunny in my wardrobe sadly, so had to opt for a yellow Primark dress with the top buttons missing. Which meant there was a LOT of chest exposed..... oops. Decided to brave wearing my white wedges too, get me wearing heels when it's not even an occasion!
We went for a pub lunch down in the village, which was GORGEOUS. We discussed "last night" - he said he didn't regret it in the slightest and was incredibly glad we waited till we were both sober, as it was much better that way. The food was lovely, it was a glorious day.... and then everything was ruined by a certain "arrival." Which meant I had to forsake dessert (chocolate fudge cake! FUDGE CAKE!!!) and leg it home. GODDAMMIT!!!
Went to the local park in the afternoon, bought ice creams and wandered around, marvelling at the size of the place - which never fails to amaze me, despite living down the road from it all my life. Truth be told - it was one of the best afternoons ever, but for some strange reason - I don't feel like talking about it. I can't imagine why. Maybe I'm just in a lazy mood today. Having said that, we didn't get up to much - we just lay in the sun, wandering barefoot over the grass (any excuse to take the heels off) and talking about nothing in particular whilst watching the trees blow in the wind. It was heaven. Although we did have to stop touching each other every time a kid ran past - which, being a park, was pretty much every 2 minutes.
Didn't really want the day to end, but it was getting chilly and I was in pain, so he dropped me off later and I spent the evening curled in a grumpy painful ball on the sofa watching the "Britain's got Talent" final and eating sweets. Dad brought home a Chinese after the pub (despite us having had pizza for tea 2 hours ago..... I love Mum being away, all normal rules go out the window!) and said Joe seemed like a nice lad. Got a text from him later, saying: "This afternoon in the park has become my new happy place."
You and me both.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: lazy
Current Music: "Suck my Kiss" - Red Hot Chilli Peppers
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