Dear Diary,
Fuck me, what a strange few days I've had. Can safely say I don't ever remember going so quickly from the heights of joy to the depths of despair.......
As you've probably guessed, Monday wasn't too fantastic. After getting no replies to my texts or calls all day, Joe's brother called me - he was in hospital. Apparently the daft-arse took 3 sleeping pills (hasn't been sleeping well since his cat was put down) instead of the conventional 1. Shaking, I jumped a cab and whirled into the hospital, preparing to face down nurses and demand to see him, whatever visiting rules may be. Slightly different from TV apparently, as they just let me walk straight through. Never let it be said I don't have a flair for the dramatic!
I sat by his bed shaking, trying hard not to look at the drip in his arm and focus on his breathing, but needless to say, I was shit-scared. Still, he eventually woke up and explained everything. He'd taken the 3 pills to knock him out (as just 1 wasn't working) - then, on the way to work the next morning felt incredibly sick and light-headed, so turned straight back round and got himself to hospital before passing out in the reception area. We laughed at his idiocy, bought sandwiches when the trolley came round, and tried everything to ignore the clinically obese man in the next bed, snoring loud enough to topple the Taj Mahal.
SLIGHT misunderstanding later on, however. When the councellor arrived to talk to Joe, there was a lot of talk of "Does your girlfriend know?" and "How have things been recently?" and "You did the right thing coming here." Something clicked (well, so I thought). Thinking he'd lied to me all along about the "accident" thing, and it was in fact a big cover story for what could only be described as a suicide attempt, I calmly got up and walked out into the corridor, before bursting into tears. Put frankly, I was terrified. It slowly started to make sense - the redundancy, the terrible home life, losing his best friend...... The councillor eventually walked past me, taking a hasty look at my teared-up face before quickly walking away. Some fucking councillor!
But Joe explained when I went back in: He'd never attempted suicide. Due to the effects on his body and what he'd blurted out in a semi-concious state, it was automatically classed as an overdose, and the nurses assumed it was attempted suicide. By the time he'd woken up, stomach pumped and chart filled, he was way too embarrassed to tell them the truth, which is why he went along with the lie. So effectively, he pretended it was a suicide attempt, to save face. Naturally, I was incredibly angry (demanding he told them the truth) and still a little doubtful, until he pointed out two things:
a) He had me in his life, so why would he? (ok, totally sickening sounding, but awwwwww). And
b) As a Catholic, his soul would be damned forever, so even if he WAS considering it (which he wasn't in a million years), he never would. Eeeee, those crazy Catholics.
Anyhow, he checked himself out later that night (despite disproving looks from everyone) and I stayed at his all week to look after him. Won't deny that it was strangely fun playing Mother Theresa for 4 days - well until my Hippocratic oath was broken, shall we say (well, it HAD been 5 days!) Anyway, nohing to worry about, just sore kidneys and a lot of weariness. Have told him that if he touches sleeping pills again, I'll break his arms. See what I mean? Mother Theresa doesn't have SHIT on me!
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Friday, 30 October 2009
Monday, 26 October 2009
HAPPY BRITHDAY TO ME!!!
Dear Diary,
Afterwards I introduced him to the wonders of Harry Ramsden's fish and chips - amazingly, he'd never even heard of them! However, 20 minutes of queueing and a big fat portion later, and Mr. H.R had a brand new fan in Joe. After that we did the main pier, which involved 3 main things:
Consumption of 12 doughnuts (I had a craving! You can't get 'em like you do in Blackpool anywhere else!!)
Wind and rain so extreme, it had it's own MTV channel.
Me dragging Joe onto the Big Wheel (and then finding out afterwards he was afraid of heights)
After another whirlpool bath (I MUST get one installed when I win the Lottery) and an incredible dinner, we had a lovely drive along the front for my ever-so-nostalgic-illuminations-viewing. Took about a billion photos while Joe stressed about petrol. Good times. Back in our room there was one last minor sex-related tiff (ie: I want it too much, all the time, and he doesn't) before bed. I really am thinking that if modern relationships are supposedly all about compromise, I'm gonna have to sit on my needs for a while, or at least try and train myself into wanting it less. What is WRONG with me??
Sunday - whilst starting off as slightly awkward, soon cheered up after a fry-up and a quickie (maybe I was just being paranoid!), upon which we realised just how thin the walls are, not to mention how squeaky the bed was. Shit! Suddenly felt very guilty about the baby I could hear next door...... Anyway, we checked out, all back to normal, and drove along the front, off on our merry way. We talked about the flat all the way home.
Upon reaching town, we realised there was no reason for the weekend to end just yet, and therefore went for a Pizza Hut, followed by "Saw 6" - which, can I point out, was simply fucking fantastic. And SO gory!! (Just how I like 'em!) After being dropped at home, I unwrapped more presents in front of X Factor, before promptly passing out. Why DOES sea air make you so damn sleepy??!
But all in all, possibly one of the best birthdays ever. Corny, but 1000% true.
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Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Lady Gaga - "Poker Face"
So here I sit, on a cold Monday morning, thinking about my birthday weekend. And I think it's safe to say that it was one (if not TOP) for the Best-Birthdays-Ever list.
Where to begin? Well, we may as well start with Friday.
Woke up to a flurry of texts, including a rather insightful one from Anne.
Things I have learnt, Part 1: When your birthday matches your age (ie: I was 23 on the 23rd) - this is considered your "lucky" birthday in Malta.
Festivities began at half 10 when Joe arrived, bearing a gorgeous bunch of red roses and a hug the size of Manchester. After a little showing off of received presents, we drove down to the block of flats, where our friendly estate agent (how grown up does THAT sound??) was waiting to show us around. After meeting the concierge (!), taking the lift up to the courtyard (!!) and another lift to our flat (!!!), we were in. Nothing much to tell really. There's not much of a view, but it's big enough for two, unfurnished (but we can provide the furniture between us anyway) with an AMAZING wardrobe in the bedroom, DISHWASHER (was NOT expecting that!), a lovely little bathroom, and (which was, in my opinion, the dealbreaker) a combination WASHING AND DRYING MACHINE. Not to mention the thick-as-a-tank front door and INDIVIDUAL ALARM SYSTEM.
Believe me, I tried so hard to follow Joe's lead in being professional, exuding an air of Bond-like neutraility and enquiring about proper stuff, but all I really wanted to do was yell "SOLD!!" and start unpacking kitchen utensils. Instead, I contended myself with mentally arranging furniture placement, touching the walls and visualizing living there.
After we left, we drove up to Mum's cafe, nattering all the way about Pros and Cons, etc.... Turns out Joe's air of casual "oh-we've-already-looked-at-3-other-places" indifference was all just a big act, and he was pretty much as excited as I was. Nice!Once at the shop, we settled in for a free breakfast, after the girls serenaded me with "Happy Birthday" and presented a tray of home-made cupcakes. Awwwww!! The watching customers cheered as I went bright red, and Yvonne forced Joe into telling her where he was taking me.
And then we were off! I'd agreed (at Joe's request) to wear a blindfold to keep the location hidden till the last minute, which, after 45 minutes, was starting to feel like a really shitty idea. After an hour of itchy, blurry eyes, I started trying to guess where we were going. Going off previous clues, the best I could come up with was a day trip to somewhere cold - maybe walking, or snowboarding, followed by a meal somewhere, and then back to his for a weekend. Oh, was I wrong......
After a good 2 hour journey, I was finally told to take the blindfold off. And what was the sight before me? Well, momentarily, blurry eyes and a strange white mist. But after THAT came a very familiar childhood sight..... that of BLACKPOOL TOWER! We were in BLACKPOOL!!! Let's just say my reaction was something similar to this.
So we drove down the front, me getting increasingly excited as we passed so many fond childhood memories.... the sea, the sand, the 3 main piers, the 18,000 candyfloss (and other treats) stalls, every single woman trying to convince pavement walkers that SHE was the real Gypsy Rose-Lee (as opposed to all the other 75 who were doing the same thing). I was overjoyed. A day trip to Blackpool! That was gonna be sweet - we'd spend all day on the piers, maybe have fish and chips, take photos and walk along the beach. "Just need to find somewhere to park," Joe mumbled, as we neared the end of the Illuminations stretch. And then, I swear to god, this is what happened next:
J: "OK, should be a parking space somewhere....."
K: "Seriously, just take the first one you can find, I wanna start walking!"
J: "No problem!" (*swings car into the Savoy Hotel carpark*)
K: "Um..... when I said ANYWHERE, I didn't mean.... I don't think we can park here."
J: "Why not?"
K: "It's a HOTEL! Isn't it reserved for guests or something?"
J: "Hmmmm....... Nah, it'll be fine. No-one'll know!"
K: "Yeah, but don't people monitor stuff like that?"
J: "Good point. Well, we'd best check in then."
...............................................................
K: "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??????!!!!"
Yes folks, there you have it. I'd been tricked - AGAIN - in what was quite blatantly a hotel setting. How could I have fallen for it twice??!! Anyway, I practically jumped on the poor guy, shrieking and laughing, despite the niggling guilty feeling in my head that wondered how the hell he'd managed to afford this, since redundancy. Oh well, a lady never asks! Even though I kinda did (He booked it AGES ago, apparently). The hotel was SO nice, all pink and cosy, and just the right side of posh (ie: a little bit, but not too) - whilst our room had a TV and a WHIRPOOL BATH!! Sadly with only room for one person, but still - WHIRLPOOL BATH!!
After a quick room-christening (at least things seem to be back on board in THAT department after last week's events!) we walked down to the central pier, all the better for me to spend a good quarter of my money on those ball-rolling Derby games (I can't help it, THEY'RE SO ADDICTIVE!!) Afterwards we went for a walk along the beach, generally looking round and soaking in the rain and wind lashed surroundings. Good times!
And things were still to get better. We went back to the room (where I took full advantage of the whirlpool bath....!) to get changed, and went down for dinner. Felt a little too dressed up, considering I was in a purple silky top, pencil skirt, fishnets and heels and everyone else was in.... well, normal clothes..... but as Joe ordered a celebratory bottle of champagne and we dug into the amazing 3 course meals, my worries faded away (along with any fears that 23 is seen as: "getting old"). Afterwards we took our drinks into the lounge to join in a huge Bingo game (I won the 2nd one!) before retiring upstairs with another bottle. Tell you what, it doesn't half sound fancier than it is when you put it like that!
Upstairs, we drank the rest of the champers whilst watching "Peep Show" (genius, as always) and unwrapped my presents (although why he'd brought presents AS WELL was beyond me). He got me The Mitchell and Webb book (yesssss!), a "Me-to-You" little bear holding some roses, and some beautiful white gold earrings, which I immediately put in. We went for a walk along the front to get out of our ever-so-slightly boiling room for a while, me tottering along in heels, slightly tipsy from the champagne. We looked at the sea for a while before heading back for sexy rest-of-the-eveing in the room. A pretty sweet birthday indeed!
Saturday - Wow, what can I say? What felt like the longest day in the WORLD surely should not have been so much fun. But it was. Just your typical "doing Blackpool" really, up at half 9 (curse going out with a morning person!) followed by sexy hotel breakfast and a quick trip to nearby town centre for toothbrush and memory card - all the better to hold all 3000 photos I eventually took. Was rather strange seeing the Blackpool AWAY from the tourist-y well-known part, I have to say.
Afterwards I introduced him to the wonders of Harry Ramsden's fish and chips - amazingly, he'd never even heard of them! However, 20 minutes of queueing and a big fat portion later, and Mr. H.R had a brand new fan in Joe. After that we did the main pier, which involved 3 main things:
Consumption of 12 doughnuts (I had a craving! You can't get 'em like you do in Blackpool anywhere else!!)
Wind and rain so extreme, it had it's own MTV channel.
Me dragging Joe onto the Big Wheel (and then finding out afterwards he was afraid of heights)
After another whirlpool bath (I MUST get one installed when I win the Lottery) and an incredible dinner, we had a lovely drive along the front for my ever-so-nostalgic-illuminations-viewing. Took about a billion photos while Joe stressed about petrol. Good times. Back in our room there was one last minor sex-related tiff (ie: I want it too much, all the time, and he doesn't) before bed. I really am thinking that if modern relationships are supposedly all about compromise, I'm gonna have to sit on my needs for a while, or at least try and train myself into wanting it less. What is WRONG with me??
Sunday - whilst starting off as slightly awkward, soon cheered up after a fry-up and a quickie (maybe I was just being paranoid!), upon which we realised just how thin the walls are, not to mention how squeaky the bed was. Shit! Suddenly felt very guilty about the baby I could hear next door...... Anyway, we checked out, all back to normal, and drove along the front, off on our merry way. We talked about the flat all the way home.
Upon reaching town, we realised there was no reason for the weekend to end just yet, and therefore went for a Pizza Hut, followed by "Saw 6" - which, can I point out, was simply fucking fantastic. And SO gory!! (Just how I like 'em!) After being dropped at home, I unwrapped more presents in front of X Factor, before promptly passing out. Why DOES sea air make you so damn sleepy??!
But all in all, possibly one of the best birthdays ever. Corny, but 1000% true.
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Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Lady Gaga - "Poker Face"
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Pre-birthday good times
Dear Diary,
Damn, what an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic day I've had. It's the day before my brithday, I'd had the best birthday-eve yet, and on top of that, something is happening tomorrow that I have absolutely NO idea about.
Went to town during the day after an impromptu call from Marie and Susie - inviting me for a film and a Nando's. After a fair amount of bickering, I was forced - I mean, chose - to go see "Dorian Grey" - which actually turned out to be pretty amazing. Aside from all the slightly uncomfortable sex scenes, that is. I found it to be a profoundly beautiful and terrifying story about the danger of vanity and living without consequences, Marie found it a good excuse to perv at a Victorian boy for 2 hours. To be fair, Ben Barnes was pretty gorgeous. And Colin Firth as a reckless, shallow, selfish, leading-astray bad-ass - HELL YES. I have further revised my opinion of the man and his ability to play anything but a bumbling/stuck up English gent/Mr. Darcy spin-off. What a pleasant surprise that was. Well worth a look.
Got dropped home in the afternoon to prepare for tomorrow. I've been prepared for weeks by Joe, for yet another surprise, and truth be told, I am absolutely DYING to know what it is. It is KILLING me. Here are the clues that have been slowly (and subtly) filtered to me thus far:
I must bring:
1 smart outfit, one casual
Comfy shoes
A camera
A suitcase
Hat scarf and gloves
Sunglasses
A tenner
I've been told that:
It will be cold
There will be a fair bit of walking involved
The camera is essential
Do you SEE what I'm up against??! And I've known this information for AGES and have NO idea what's going to happen! First, I think it's ski-ing, which would explain the cold apparel teamed with sunnies. But neither of us can ski. Then I think we're climbing a mountain or hill, but he assures me we're not. And I end up twisting it round and round until I haven't a clue who I am or where I'm from anymore (exaggeration, maybe......)
Well, I'm all packed, guess I'll find out tomorrow.......
In the meantime, I spent a brilliant evening with Mum, Dad, Shaun and Auntie, munching a birthday Chinese and generally drinking a lot of wine and having a whale of a time. Opened a few birthday gifts too, as I'll be alone tomorrow morning, and not seeing anyone till Sunday. Rather fantastically, I got a Paul Smith overnight bag from Grandma (no more carrying a tattered New Look bag to Joe's every Friday!) with £70 tucked in the side pocket, £100 off Mum and Dad, and £30 inside cards from various relatives. Naturally, I'm over the moon, as that's a good chunk of my Sign Language classes paid off now (Level 2 is shockingly expensive). Hurray!!!
Right, I'm off to bed. Although how I'll sleep tonight is BEYOND me........
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: damned excited
Current Music: "Happy birthday, Mr. President" - ok, totally joking. I'm actually sat in mediative silence.
Damn, what an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic day I've had. It's the day before my brithday, I'd had the best birthday-eve yet, and on top of that, something is happening tomorrow that I have absolutely NO idea about.
Went to town during the day after an impromptu call from Marie and Susie - inviting me for a film and a Nando's. After a fair amount of bickering, I was forced - I mean, chose - to go see "Dorian Grey" - which actually turned out to be pretty amazing. Aside from all the slightly uncomfortable sex scenes, that is. I found it to be a profoundly beautiful and terrifying story about the danger of vanity and living without consequences, Marie found it a good excuse to perv at a Victorian boy for 2 hours. To be fair, Ben Barnes was pretty gorgeous. And Colin Firth as a reckless, shallow, selfish, leading-astray bad-ass - HELL YES. I have further revised my opinion of the man and his ability to play anything but a bumbling/stuck up English gent/Mr. Darcy spin-off. What a pleasant surprise that was. Well worth a look.
Got dropped home in the afternoon to prepare for tomorrow. I've been prepared for weeks by Joe, for yet another surprise, and truth be told, I am absolutely DYING to know what it is. It is KILLING me. Here are the clues that have been slowly (and subtly) filtered to me thus far:
I must bring:
1 smart outfit, one casual
Comfy shoes
A camera
A suitcase
Hat scarf and gloves
Sunglasses
A tenner
I've been told that:
It will be cold
There will be a fair bit of walking involved
The camera is essential
Do you SEE what I'm up against??! And I've known this information for AGES and have NO idea what's going to happen! First, I think it's ski-ing, which would explain the cold apparel teamed with sunnies. But neither of us can ski. Then I think we're climbing a mountain or hill, but he assures me we're not. And I end up twisting it round and round until I haven't a clue who I am or where I'm from anymore (exaggeration, maybe......)
Well, I'm all packed, guess I'll find out tomorrow.......
In the meantime, I spent a brilliant evening with Mum, Dad, Shaun and Auntie, munching a birthday Chinese and generally drinking a lot of wine and having a whale of a time. Opened a few birthday gifts too, as I'll be alone tomorrow morning, and not seeing anyone till Sunday. Rather fantastically, I got a Paul Smith overnight bag from Grandma (no more carrying a tattered New Look bag to Joe's every Friday!) with £70 tucked in the side pocket, £100 off Mum and Dad, and £30 inside cards from various relatives. Naturally, I'm over the moon, as that's a good chunk of my Sign Language classes paid off now (Level 2 is shockingly expensive). Hurray!!!
Right, I'm off to bed. Although how I'll sleep tonight is BEYOND me........
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Current Mood: damned excited
Current Music: "Happy birthday, Mr. President" - ok, totally joking. I'm actually sat in mediative silence.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Hello Optimism, Goodbye Cat
Dear Diary,
Last week I had the most incredible revelation. Or rather, it was had FOR me. By one Miss Rhonda Byrne, author of "The Secret." Having had this book pressed upon me by a uni friend, I last read it several years ago, and haven't gone back to it since. But for some reason, today, I just decided that enough was enough. I hadn't heard back from the hotel, I hadn't heard back from Data Entry, I was fed up of feeling negative all the time (because let's be honest, it doesn't really seem to help) and wanted a change. So I read the book again.
To say I'd seen the light was an understatement. I was literally BATHED in it. Suddenly, so much more made sense. I can't really be bothered typing out the whole message right now, just take £12 down to the nearest Waterstones or visit the website. Needless to say, I came away feeling empowered, optimistic, and most of all - happy. It all comes from you thinking, and attracting things to you with the power of your thoughts. Thinking, constantly thinking...... and never once imagining the "what ifs," or negative aspects. If you want something, you have to think and act as if you already have it. Looking for a partner? Clear some space in your wardrobe for his clothes. Want more money? Add a few extra zeros on your bank statement and stick it up on the wall. The book and the website outline the rules more clearly then I, obviously.
Of course, I'm aware that I sound like a raving, wide-eyed loon. But put it this way - after 2 whole days of thinking about nothing but getting more money, I put the Lottery on and bought a scratchcard, both for the first time in 6 years........ and won £20. Straight after that, I picked up the phone, called the estate agents and requested a viewing on the dream flat Joe and I found online the other day. It's arranged for my birthday morning. Things are DEFINATELY looking up!
Having said that, it was pretty awful last Tuesday. Whilst at work on one of my recent extra shifts (yes yes yes!!!) I got FOUR missed calls off Joe - slightly disturbing, as he never rings when I'm working. Long story short - his cat had to be put down. The poor guy was completely cut up - and truth be told, I had tears brimming as I reluctantly went back to pulling pints. It may seem daft and a bit of an over-reaction, but this was a cat with Character. He'd been with Joe's family for 15 years, been his best friend through hard times at school, you get the drift. Hell, he'd even learnt how to sit, talk (well, make noises) and roll over on command. How many cats can do that??! Not to mention he was damned cute, and had the most adorable habit of popping up on the roof.
Landlady eventually sussed something was up from the look on my face, and told me she'd let Joe in after Last Orders, if he wanted to come up for a drink. So he did. Red-eyed and quiet, he raised a small whiskey to the cat's memory, as I choked up to the point of explosion and attempted to wash drip trays.
Rather worryingly, he hasn't been sleeping well since it happened. Have tried everything to help, but who wants to hear someone wittering on about counting sheep when you're coming to terms with a death? And haven't even THOUGHT about sex - it's proving difficult enough getting a smile out of him, let alone trying to make him feel sexy whilst desperately trying to ignore the elephant (or dead cat) in the room.
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Current Mood: torn between optimism and despair
Current Music: "Fight for this love" - Cheryl Cole
Last week I had the most incredible revelation. Or rather, it was had FOR me. By one Miss Rhonda Byrne, author of "The Secret." Having had this book pressed upon me by a uni friend, I last read it several years ago, and haven't gone back to it since. But for some reason, today, I just decided that enough was enough. I hadn't heard back from the hotel, I hadn't heard back from Data Entry, I was fed up of feeling negative all the time (because let's be honest, it doesn't really seem to help) and wanted a change. So I read the book again.
To say I'd seen the light was an understatement. I was literally BATHED in it. Suddenly, so much more made sense. I can't really be bothered typing out the whole message right now, just take £12 down to the nearest Waterstones or visit the website. Needless to say, I came away feeling empowered, optimistic, and most of all - happy. It all comes from you thinking, and attracting things to you with the power of your thoughts. Thinking, constantly thinking...... and never once imagining the "what ifs," or negative aspects. If you want something, you have to think and act as if you already have it. Looking for a partner? Clear some space in your wardrobe for his clothes. Want more money? Add a few extra zeros on your bank statement and stick it up on the wall. The book and the website outline the rules more clearly then I, obviously.
Of course, I'm aware that I sound like a raving, wide-eyed loon. But put it this way - after 2 whole days of thinking about nothing but getting more money, I put the Lottery on and bought a scratchcard, both for the first time in 6 years........ and won £20. Straight after that, I picked up the phone, called the estate agents and requested a viewing on the dream flat Joe and I found online the other day. It's arranged for my birthday morning. Things are DEFINATELY looking up!
Having said that, it was pretty awful last Tuesday. Whilst at work on one of my recent extra shifts (yes yes yes!!!) I got FOUR missed calls off Joe - slightly disturbing, as he never rings when I'm working. Long story short - his cat had to be put down. The poor guy was completely cut up - and truth be told, I had tears brimming as I reluctantly went back to pulling pints. It may seem daft and a bit of an over-reaction, but this was a cat with Character. He'd been with Joe's family for 15 years, been his best friend through hard times at school, you get the drift. Hell, he'd even learnt how to sit, talk (well, make noises) and roll over on command. How many cats can do that??! Not to mention he was damned cute, and had the most adorable habit of popping up on the roof.
Landlady eventually sussed something was up from the look on my face, and told me she'd let Joe in after Last Orders, if he wanted to come up for a drink. So he did. Red-eyed and quiet, he raised a small whiskey to the cat's memory, as I choked up to the point of explosion and attempted to wash drip trays.
Rather worryingly, he hasn't been sleeping well since it happened. Have tried everything to help, but who wants to hear someone wittering on about counting sheep when you're coming to terms with a death? And haven't even THOUGHT about sex - it's proving difficult enough getting a smile out of him, let alone trying to make him feel sexy whilst desperately trying to ignore the elephant (or dead cat) in the room.
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Current Mood: torn between optimism and despair
Current Music: "Fight for this love" - Cheryl Cole
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Good news and bad
Dear Diary,
Well, some good news at last. I'm feeling optimistic AND Joe found me a plausible job opening he's applying for as well. Met him for lunch in the city again (bearing sandwiches from Mum's shop - highg school flashback!) where he told me about it. It's Data Entry, boring as bricks, BUT it's in the city, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week..... £12.50 AN HOUR. Can you IMAGINE such a world??! I'd be fetching nearly two grand a month!! So my application is currently sitting in an Inbox somewhere, waiting to be opened......
On a less pleasant note, Pat and I had the mother of all showdowns in the pub. Cannot be rammed recapping (mostly because it makes me fume like rat poison) but in a nutshell, I was told that I'm "unitelligent," "useless," "never gonna make anything of myself" and should "just stick to cleaning and barwork, as that's all you'll ever be good for."
Hmmm. Believe me, I am refraining from calling him all manner of things and threatening all kinds of stuff, partly so as not to come across as a psycho, partly cos I'd never have the balls to carry it out anyway. But needless to say, I was left shaking, furious, and gripping a glass so hard I nearly broke it. How dare he? How fucking DARE he??!! What gives HIM the right to tell me I'm going wrong with my life??! Yes, I may not have leaped into my desired career straight away, or popped a baby out at 21, but that does NOT make me worthless. I tell you what, I'd give a damn sight more to be me than a pathetic old man who drinks 15 pints every single night, freely admits to not being able to "get it up," gets his kicks off trying to guess my bra size and thinks "variety" is wandering down the road to a different pub.
And "unintelligent"?? I have a feeling he's making the mistake many judgemental people do, and confusing "dizzy" with "thick," which REALLY pisses me off. These people don't know me AT ALL. I am NEVER myself when I work in that pub, and only a handful of people in this world actually know what I'm REALLY like. The dizziness, most of the time, is exaggerated to get laughs off friends and tips off punters. Some times I'm just plain forgetful and a little bit easily confused. But I am NOT unintelligent. I get through about 4 books a week, I can sing songs in Latin and speak 3 other languages. I may not be good at maths, but I can comunicate with deaf people, hold debates, have opinions and work my way out of any difficult solution I've ever been in. I know more things than he could ever comprehend. I love reading about our history, have a huge vocabulary and I don't understand politics because I simply have no interest in it. I CHOOSE not to watch the news, not because I don't understand it, but because I hate getting depressed about the state of our world (I already feel shitty enough, I don't need things ADDED to that). And for god's sake, one wonders, if I'm so thick, how the hell did I get into a Grammar school? Because I'll tell you now, my family is by NO means loaded.
And what the hell does it matter anyway? Who decides that academic intelligence is the be-all and end-all? Yes, it probably helps a lot more getting jobs in certain fields, particularly if you're a scientist or whatever. But some of the cleverest, smartest people I know never even went to COLLEGE, let alone university. And that's why people like Pat piss me off - because their shallow, cynical, sanctimonious old selves never let them truly get to know people, and think that there is SO much that they just don't know about. I long for the day my deaf friends from the hospital up the road come in, so he can see me holding a full-blown conversation with them.
I'm aware that I'm coming across as a total dick right now, but I get dick-ish when I'm passionate (or annoyed) about something. But I just can't tell you how irritating it is to see those thick grey eyebrows go shooting up when I come out with a long word, as if to say "How the hell do you know that? You're so thick!" Grrrrr.............
On a similar note, Level 2 Sign Language is going fantastically well. And I'm getting loads of shifts (and therefore money) at the moment. AND Mum's given me some work in my old job at her shop again. Things are DEFINATELY looking up!
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Current Mood: slightly peeved
Current Music: "The end of the world" - R.E.M
Well, some good news at last. I'm feeling optimistic AND Joe found me a plausible job opening he's applying for as well. Met him for lunch in the city again (bearing sandwiches from Mum's shop - highg school flashback!) where he told me about it. It's Data Entry, boring as bricks, BUT it's in the city, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week..... £12.50 AN HOUR. Can you IMAGINE such a world??! I'd be fetching nearly two grand a month!! So my application is currently sitting in an Inbox somewhere, waiting to be opened......
On a less pleasant note, Pat and I had the mother of all showdowns in the pub. Cannot be rammed recapping (mostly because it makes me fume like rat poison) but in a nutshell, I was told that I'm "unitelligent," "useless," "never gonna make anything of myself" and should "just stick to cleaning and barwork, as that's all you'll ever be good for."
Hmmm. Believe me, I am refraining from calling him all manner of things and threatening all kinds of stuff, partly so as not to come across as a psycho, partly cos I'd never have the balls to carry it out anyway. But needless to say, I was left shaking, furious, and gripping a glass so hard I nearly broke it. How dare he? How fucking DARE he??!! What gives HIM the right to tell me I'm going wrong with my life??! Yes, I may not have leaped into my desired career straight away, or popped a baby out at 21, but that does NOT make me worthless. I tell you what, I'd give a damn sight more to be me than a pathetic old man who drinks 15 pints every single night, freely admits to not being able to "get it up," gets his kicks off trying to guess my bra size and thinks "variety" is wandering down the road to a different pub.
And "unintelligent"?? I have a feeling he's making the mistake many judgemental people do, and confusing "dizzy" with "thick," which REALLY pisses me off. These people don't know me AT ALL. I am NEVER myself when I work in that pub, and only a handful of people in this world actually know what I'm REALLY like. The dizziness, most of the time, is exaggerated to get laughs off friends and tips off punters. Some times I'm just plain forgetful and a little bit easily confused. But I am NOT unintelligent. I get through about 4 books a week, I can sing songs in Latin and speak 3 other languages. I may not be good at maths, but I can comunicate with deaf people, hold debates, have opinions and work my way out of any difficult solution I've ever been in. I know more things than he could ever comprehend. I love reading about our history, have a huge vocabulary and I don't understand politics because I simply have no interest in it. I CHOOSE not to watch the news, not because I don't understand it, but because I hate getting depressed about the state of our world (I already feel shitty enough, I don't need things ADDED to that). And for god's sake, one wonders, if I'm so thick, how the hell did I get into a Grammar school? Because I'll tell you now, my family is by NO means loaded.
And what the hell does it matter anyway? Who decides that academic intelligence is the be-all and end-all? Yes, it probably helps a lot more getting jobs in certain fields, particularly if you're a scientist or whatever. But some of the cleverest, smartest people I know never even went to COLLEGE, let alone university. And that's why people like Pat piss me off - because their shallow, cynical, sanctimonious old selves never let them truly get to know people, and think that there is SO much that they just don't know about. I long for the day my deaf friends from the hospital up the road come in, so he can see me holding a full-blown conversation with them.
I'm aware that I'm coming across as a total dick right now, but I get dick-ish when I'm passionate (or annoyed) about something. But I just can't tell you how irritating it is to see those thick grey eyebrows go shooting up when I come out with a long word, as if to say "How the hell do you know that? You're so thick!" Grrrrr.............
On a similar note, Level 2 Sign Language is going fantastically well. And I'm getting loads of shifts (and therefore money) at the moment. AND Mum's given me some work in my old job at her shop again. Things are DEFINATELY looking up!
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Current Mood: slightly peeved
Current Music: "The end of the world" - R.E.M
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Bit of trivia......
Facts you never knew about me
When I confront people, I go red, get goosebumps up my neck, and go all tingly
I love music from before my time a lot more than music FROM my time
I have to listen to my Ipod before falling asleep - and sometimes imagine myself singing whatever song I'm listening to on the X Factor - and being told by the judges that I'm marvellous.
Despite being hugely lazy and partially employed, I refuse to go on benefits. I will not be one of those undeserving little shits you read about in the paper who take money off decent hardworking people.
When I put my mind to it, I'm actually an excellent cook.
I probably think about sex as much as the average male.
I someday hope to find a dress that maximises my boobs, minimises my stomach, uplifts my arse, stops just above the knee, covers the tops of my arms, screams "Take me to bed this instant"........ and is under £50.
The 3 shops I can never walk past without looking in are Waterstones, La Senza, and Swarovski.
I have a deep and pure hatred of: Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Those two twins off the X Factor, Pat from the pub, Jordan, and LaToya Jackson (talk about cashing in).
I have an overwhelming addiction to IMDB.
I find Ken Barlow from Corrie strangely attractive (It's the rogueish smile, eye twinkle and massive cultured intelligence)
I don't get Twitter. At all.
My true ambition in life is to play Christine in "Phantom of the Opera"
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When I confront people, I go red, get goosebumps up my neck, and go all tingly
I love music from before my time a lot more than music FROM my time
I have to listen to my Ipod before falling asleep - and sometimes imagine myself singing whatever song I'm listening to on the X Factor - and being told by the judges that I'm marvellous.
Despite being hugely lazy and partially employed, I refuse to go on benefits. I will not be one of those undeserving little shits you read about in the paper who take money off decent hardworking people.
When I put my mind to it, I'm actually an excellent cook.
I probably think about sex as much as the average male.
I someday hope to find a dress that maximises my boobs, minimises my stomach, uplifts my arse, stops just above the knee, covers the tops of my arms, screams "Take me to bed this instant"........ and is under £50.
The 3 shops I can never walk past without looking in are Waterstones, La Senza, and Swarovski.
I have a deep and pure hatred of: Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Those two twins off the X Factor, Pat from the pub, Jordan, and LaToya Jackson (talk about cashing in).
I have an overwhelming addiction to IMDB.
I find Ken Barlow from Corrie strangely attractive (It's the rogueish smile, eye twinkle and massive cultured intelligence)
I don't get Twitter. At all.
My true ambition in life is to play Christine in "Phantom of the Opera"
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