crazy like a fox

So, I haven’t updated particularly timely. My bad. After being sworn at to do so, I feel that I have sufficient news to report. However, I do like to keep things chronological, hence I will finish my Paris trip detailing.

We (Rosie, Ed, myself) managed to time the Versailles trip really well, since it’s free admission on the first Sunday of every month. It’s quite a nice palace, very opulent as you would expect, however I did have to deal with the “third wheel syndrome” due to Rosie & Ed realising that they were allowed to be coupley. But that was ok, Rosie & I banded together to take the piss out of Edwardo, so all good.

Went outside to take photos of the gardens (the main reason I wanted to visit was to see Marie Antoinette’s house), however it was so insanely cold that we ended up wearing our scarves around our faces in ninja fashion and leaping about like said ninjas in order to warm ourselves up. Highly entertaining, though Marie’s house was a long walk from the palace, so I’ll have to see that when the weather’s somewhat better.

That evening we had pizza for dinner and watched Eurotrip on my laptop, it being too cold and fairly expensive to eat out again.

The next day Rosie was leaving, so I spent most of my day napping and watching West Wing (so close to the end, so damn close) to let them have some time together. They’d decided to go up the Eiffel Tower – which I’ve done previously – so I got to have a nice sleep-in as well. That evening after Ed had taken Rosie to the train station, we went to his favourite steak restaurant. Oh holy night. I have to say, that was some damn fine steak.

After dinner we went to see Seb & his housemate (whose name I’ve forgotten.. started with an R). Seb, for those who don’t remember, was the Frenchman who I had a 90 degree adventure with at Ed’s Independence Day BBQ. He was as cheeky and charming as he was previously, so we had a good laugh about our encounter and bantered over a few drinks.

Tuesday morning, we both packed and tidied the apartment back to its original state, then went out to Les Catacombes as a final sightseeing expedition. I quite enjoyed it, until Ed started talking about how the dark shadows would be excellent hiding places for spiders. Bastard. Returning to the apartment, we picked up our gear and hailed a cab to Gar du Nord. A brief goodbye and a sincere thanks for a great week, as his train was the one after mine.

Now, the up-to-date news. Redundancy is terribly social. Having so much time to kill means I can basically say yes to any drinks/dinner/etc that people invite me to. However, now that I’m definitely going to Cuba at the end of February (with Nicola, Ed’s cousin), I may need to do some temp work to sustain myself until I return in March. On top of that, I’m going to Brussels with Georgina next weekend and my tattoo will be coloured in completely as of next Tuesday (also Australia Day) – not finished though, since I still want the extension to the left arm.

So I’m basically going to tell recruitment agency I’m free as of 1st Feb. Am going to miss out on The XX concert (and mum’s birthday) due to Cuba trip, but I think it’ll be worth it. I really like Nic, she’s very laid back and easy to laugh with – we may need to have a day to ourselves at some point, since 14 days is a long time to spend with anyone. Regardless, I’m still excited.

Will still be attending Mexico, however that will be in May – Nestor & Julieta, my friends who I would’ve been staying with are now engaged and will be getting married on the 24th May. Managed to get invited to that, so Phil & I are going then. Just need to start working more on the Rosetta Stone Spanish now.

Don’t think I’ve missed anything out – oh, had a couple of drinks tonight with the old boys, they’re quite happy they still have jobs. I also saw Up In The Air – HIGHLY recommend it, a brilliant movie. And I’ve joined a gym and am attending classes in order to fit into size 12 jeans/not feel like an albino whale once I get to Cuba. Well. I don’t think the albino part will change.

Think that’s enough blather for one evening. I still have a few episodes of West Wing to finally finish the fecking series. IT WILL BE DONE.

Greetings from the City of Lights. Slept too long today (needed it though, wasn’t particularly human after New Years), so I’m fairly awake now. I thought I should update my shenanigans now, before I forget the details of my trip so far.

Firstly, Xmas was a bit of a downer, the Secret Santa present I got was rubbish (an Xmas mug.. really people? Come on. My Santa gift was a Meccano set) – though mum hasn’t gotten me anything since she hasn’t found anything she thinks I’ll want, fair enough too, seems pointless to get a shit present because a guy who got nailed to a tree was born. I also had a cold start up, which made me achy and cranky, on top of which I was remembering Xmas with Phil, Lou and Lauren. Not having them around this year was sad.

Add to this the stress of the Eurostar failing and worrying that I wouldn’t be able to make it to Paris, it wasn’t a particularly good day (though the food was amazing again, we were eating leftovers for 3 days). My highlight was watching the Dr Who Xmas special and finding out that The Master had returned (I don’t know what it is, but The Master is kind of hot).

Went shopping a bit in the sales on the 28th, got a fair amount of new clothes (a couple of pairs of boots, very pleased with those). Caught the Eurostar on the 29th (no problems there, except I got to the station too early, had to hang around for an hour). Some of the escalators had stopped on the tube to Ed’s place, so I had to drag a suitcase up way too many flights of stairs. My own fault for packing too much I guess. But I like to have options! Especially when I’m away for a week and I don’t know what I’ll be doing! Ah fuck it, I don’t have to justify my actions.

Anyway, finally got to Ed’s, started giggling like a twit as soon as I entered the reception to the building. The reception was bigger than my flat. Up to the second floor, buzz door, get quick hug and then tour of the apartment. Ok, to give scope, you could literally bowl down the main hall. Or have a running race. 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, a ballroom, living room, dining room, kitchen. A FUCKING BALLROOM.

After I’d calmed down, Ed & I caught up about Xmas and the current situation with his ladyfriend. Couple of ep’s of West Wing and I passed out. He’d suggested firmly that I’d want to leave the house by 10am and not come back till 1pm after Rosie had arrived and they’d gotten horizontally accquainted again.

Fair enough, since I’m staying in the centre of Paris for a week for free, least I can do is give him a few hours privacy. Wandered around the luxury jewellery shops for a while – loved the Parade necklace – moderately out of my price range though. Meandered my way back through the Jardin de Tuilleries (many statues in front of the Louvre) after having to fork out 8 FUCKING EUROS for a COKE. Insanity I tells ya.

Met Rosie, she’s a really lovely girl (I say girl, she’s older than I am) and I’m pleased that New Year’s turned out how it did. I can see alot of similar traits (best one is that we both cackle, though I think mine is more evil) between the two of us which is great, because I’d hate it if I didn’t get along with Ed’s missus.

We did a quickstop tour of Paris: Eiffel Tour, Arc d’Triumph, Champs d’Elysses, back to the flat for a nap (Ed was still operating on Washington time, Rosie’d been doing night shifts) and clothes change – it was absolutely bucketing down on the walk back. Met Sarah & her bf Frank at a pub around 10pm, a few drinks with them, then back to the flat to let Georgina/Stu/Andy in.

I shared a room with George, so there was much catching up about Xmas and her current shag, apparently every word of the conversation was heard by Stu/Andy as the walls are quite thin. Oh well.

Next morning, George forced me out of bed to go shopping with her. We walked down Rue de Rivoli for an hour with no luck, then tried to find a decently priced restaurant with no luck, ultimately ending up in the first restaurant we’d decided against. However, the waiter decided to chat to us foreigners and directed us to a 6 floor shopping mall about 3 streets away. Happy days.

George had spent a heap of her cash in the sales as well, so she was happy to help me find some new matching underwear (I’m more of a functional than flashy girl when it comes to this kind of thing, but I have to admit, I do quite like the new stuff I bought) and we headed back to get ready for the Bond themed dinner party.

I wore the same black dress I’d bought for the Xmas party (did the smokey eye makeup too), but with my heeled boots this time, since I knew we were going to be outside for the countdown and fucked if I was going to have cold wet feet. Dinner was excellent, the boys and girls had done a great job, starter of artichoke & spinach dip with toasted pita bread, chicken and mushroom pasta bake with vegetables for main and some kind of pastry cake for dessert. This is all washed down with the 8 bottles of Tattinger champagne and fuck knows how many glasses of wine.

I’d been in charge of decorations, so I’d found a bunch of Xmas lights, arranged them in the ballroom along with the piano, set a nice candelebra as the centrepiece for the table and George set up the napkins in a nice fan shape. High fives all round.

While the kisses were occurring on the bridge, Ed & Rosie may have locked lips for somewhat longer than expected by the others. Especially since their whole relationship has been a secret for the past 3 months. So that got outed. Like I said, I’m pleased about that, I think they’re very good together. I know Ed really likes her, he keeps telling me how sweet she is. Which is hilarious, since it’s a completely different side to him that he (and I for that matter) keeps covered up.

After much drinking and dancing, I was the last to turn the lights out at around 5.30am. George had drunkenly snogged Andy (a nice boy, big fan of Sickipedia but absolutely not my type), so I was somewhat wary of bursting in on them. I went to bed to find Monty (Ed’s best mate from the course who had arrived at some point while we were shopping) in my bed – he’d presumed it was empty. Being too drunk and tired (and he is definitely a good looking young man), I told him to shove over and curled up on this single bed with him.

During the dinner, Sarah had stood up and asked to be excused. Stu, a lovely farming lad who has the best BBC1 accent I have ever heard turned to her nonchalantly and said, “Have a good shit.” The entire table breaks into hysterics. Throughout the night, Monty and I had been constantly throwing this phrase at each other, ie, he’s about to go get a drink refill, I shake his hand and tell him, “Sincerely, have a good shit.” and vice versa.

Hence, we have a 45 minute conversation about the phrase and other random things (slowly shifting about until he’s got an arm around me with my head on his chest), at one point laughing so hard that we’ve both fallen off the bed in a fit of giggles. This is partially hysteria since it’s now around 6ish and  Georgina has started to snore “like the Battersea power station”. Monty suggests that sleeping on the couch would be a better idea. We retire to the lounge and shift the two sofas together, then snuggle down to pass out.

Nothing dirty happened, which was actually kind of nice. I kept laughing at him, since he was trying to sleep wearing a full tuxedo with Stu’s cravat – what a dapper gentleman. All he did was play with my fingers and stroke my hair back from my face. In a way, I’m kind of disappointed we didn’t kiss or anything, but then I’m kind of pleased that he was at least attracted enough to sleep the whole night wrapped around me. Heh, Ed suggested later that if Monty hadn’t had been drinking and dead tired he would’ve made a move, which restores my confidence somewhat. He did give me a massive hug when he was leaving and whispered in my ear “It’s been an absolute pleasure and a privilege meeting you.. and I’d just like to say.. have a good shit.” I’d started giggling as soon as he’d said “I’d just”, so failed dismally with any kind of witty retort.

Right, I’m going to finish this whole typing thing later, it’s now 3.15am and I should get some sleep since we’re hitting the Versailles Palace today and I’m really looking forward to it. Happy new year sirs and ladies. x

So, yeah.. happy fucking days, I am free from the reins of the Daily Heil. In celebration so far, I’ve been sleeping in and playing on my shiny new PS3.

Phil’s linked me to the Honest Scrap Challenge. Rules of the challenge as follows:
a. ‘The Honest Scrap Blogger Award’ must be shared.
b. The recipient has to tell 10 (true) things about themselves that no one else knows
c. The recipient has to pass on the award to 10 more bloggers.
d. Those 10 bloggers should link back to the blog that awarded them

I don’t actually know 10 bloggers, but hey. It’s 2.13am and I’m not looking likely to sleep yet.

1) I need to eat sweets in twos. Well, need might be a bit strong, but I do prefer to have two M&M’s in my mouth to eat equally on both sides. If I have three, the next one has to be on the opposite side to the last one eaten.

2) I can recite Mary Poppins/The Lion King completely, including songs.

3) I wanted to be a vetinarian until I realised I’d have to cut animals up.

4) I’m always petrified of dropping a knife while I’m washing dishes and slicing my wrist open. Scalpels creep me out (hello number 3).

5) If I’m bored, I like to trace the outlines of shapes in the room with my right big toe. Sometimes while I’m watching TV I’ll be continuously drawing squares.

6) One day I’d like to be in a proper fight – not Fight Club stylies, but just a few punches to the face, just to see how I’d hold up against the other person.

7) I really miss having a cat around.

8 ) I instantly forget a person’s name if I don’t think they’ll be interesting. This gets really bad at parties, especially if someone is introducing me to their other half (ie, work Xmas do.. I can barely remember what half the wives looked like).

9) The sight of the back of a fat man’s head makes me nauseous. It’s something about the rolls on the neck.. ergh.

10) I fall asleep with the flat of my feet against something (the quilt, the mattress, whatever) incase something tries to stab me in the foot. Yes, I know, it’s not going to make a huge difference if something does try, but I feel better not having my feet exposed.

I’ll update after Xmas, before the big gay Paris trip. Ho ho ho people. x

Occasionally there are times that I question my own sanity. I know I overanalyse reality, but I don’t know how to turn that off.

Recently, I’ve been having bouts of paranoia, normally when I’m alone in the house at night, but sometimes when I’m in the shower or have my back to the door. After doing some searching on the interwebs, it turns out that this is not an unusual thing (which helps immensely to think that I’m not the only one who’s a bit mental). I often have trouble sleeping because I don’t want to close my eyes incase something tries to hurt me, or is in the room while I can’t see it (hence not liking the shower, being locked into a corner while naked, about as vulnerable as one can be).

It never occurred to me that this isn’t the way people function since this has happened for a long time. I have no problem while I’m in company, but as soon as I’m by myself, I have to double-check that “corner of my eye shadow”. Even right now, my bedroom door is slightly ajar (I don’t like sleeping in a closed room, mostly because of the above) but I’m still wary of seeing a face appear in the gap in the dark.

The sites I read suggested sleep deprivation as a key trigger for this (sounds like a vicious fecking cycle to me) or some repressed trauma. This may sound strange, but the only memory that I can think of is being 2 or 3 years old, waking up in my completely dark bedroom with the only light coming from under the door and freaking out because I wasn’t tall enough to reach the handle to open the door. I could hear my parents talking in the living room and I remember screaming and banging on the door, the whole time (probably no more than a minute or so, felt like forever) being worried that they wouldn’t come and I’d be stuck in the dark by myself.

That doesn’t seem like trauma, but considering how scared I am of going through reality alone, I guess it could be. Still doesn’t help with the paranoia.

The other thing that’s been brought to my attention is my nervous behaviour around people. My ability to spout utter shite goes up by 200% when I’m nervous. Instead of answering a question like a normal person, I feel the need to be self-deprecating and basically run myself into the ground and then realise I’m doing it and apologise for speaking. Dang nabbit, it seems like I have insecurities. Well fuck you.

Haha, then we come to the automatic self-defense so no one realises those insecurities are there. You can’t get to me if I get to you first. But does it really matter if you get to me, since nothing matters? Ahh existentialism, where would we be without you? Probably in the arms of the Lord I guess. He loves us all apparently. Must be nice to have faith. I envy them.

Fucking hell. I need to stop blogging at 2am, they’re real fucking downer entries, I know.

Some of this comes from a conversation I had with mum about Georgina. I love George to bits, we have a great time whether we’re out and drinking or chillaxing watching Pride & Prejudice for the 50th time. George is much better at getting male attention than I am (she claims it’s her new fringe) and managed to get two phone numbers on Friday and consequently has a date next Thursday. High fives all round. I told mum about the weekend shenanighans and she replied that she’d been talking about me (unusual for a mother, I know) with a mutual mate from work (now works for News International, really good guy). He said that I’m attractive, but I just don’t put it to use because I’m too busy being one of the boys. Mum said my problem is lack of confidence flirting with people I don’t know.

Compliments aside, I know that I could put more effort into makeup and lower cut tops and higher cut skirts, but I don’t want to be one of those girls freezing their ass off with hooker heels on (not George, she just flirts with ease). I want people to like me because I have personality and opinions and great taste in music and movies and art and my sense of humour, not because I’ve got my tits out. However, it’s clear that my way of doing things isn’t working, since I don’t remember the last time someone asked me for my number. Actually, not true, the last guy that wanted to get in contact with me was Ed and that was freaking May.

The amount of swear words I want to use will take too much time to type.

I’ve got to try to sleep again.

So.. howdy strangers.

I know,  it’s been a while since I managed to type anything legible. I haven’t really got alot to say, except that I’m riding the unicycle of annoyance along the rope of the Daily Fail. Just biding one’s time. I may stab someone. It hasn’t been decided yet.

Lots of things have happened between past update and now, some highlights being the dinner with Pete/Dor/Tash/John/Jesus, weekend out with Ed & Friends, comedy show with Neil & Mel, Sunday roast at Nick’s place.

Alot of my mental energy is squandered on how I’m going to spend my redundancy package. Considering a PS3. A new Guess watch. New boots and sneakers. New tops. Ohh, the shopping I could do. Not yet, but soon. Sooooon. However, if I get the PS3, I need a hi-def TV also, to play Blu-Ray on. I wonder what the poor people play their PS3′s on.

Need tattoo finished as well. Got another appointment on 1st Dec, hoping I’ll have it finished by either end of Dec or by end of Jan.

Might get a new handbag. Georgina told me about a day spa that I’m definitely hitting up at some point.

The other major reason for my lack of updates has been my steady addiction to The West Wing. I can’t help it. It’s terribly well written and I’m actually concerned about the characters – to the point I got worried when there was an attempt on the President’s life. It’s ok, I’ll get through them (and thus return to our usual programme) while I’m on these shitty late shifts.

Peace out yo.

A) Will be made redundant – just a matter of finding out when/how much (hopefully this afternoon I get the details).

B) Green Day put on a damn fine performance, regardless of their current release LP.

C) I had a go on some DJ decks on Friday night, it was damn good fun, think I’d be better if I knew what tracks were available on CDs, but at any rate, the guy teaching me said I was a natural (he may have been attempting to enter my knickers, I don’t know, I was getting somewhat tipsy).

D) The XX’s album “xx” is remaining very high in my esteem.

E) This week booked up – bonfire night, Fantastic Mr Fox, Pig logo work, Ed return, Friday night drinks, dinner with boys from Brighton. Huzzahs.

Sometimes, I’m a terrible person. Ok, maybe not in the stabby stabby psychotic way, but I hate telling people no (or I’m just feeling lazy – this happens often). My hairdresser invited me out to her 25th birthday do, which I said yes to – I didn’t have any other plans, and I’ve been putting her off for the past 2 years. It’s not that she’s a bad person, but she enjoys going out to the clubs in Mayfair and getting dolled up. Not exactly my scene, but I thought I’d make the effort for her birthday.

However, the plot thickens. My good mate Georgina called me that afternoon and said she had a +1 to a Sikh wedding on the same night as Kara’s birthday gig. Free booze/free Indian food/chocolate fountain at Ascot vs pretentious nightclub with people I don’t know… so I told Kara a white lie, backed up by status update to Facebook (no, I didn’t fall down the stairs again, but if karma’s real, I probably will do). I do feel a bit guilty about it, since she texted me and said I hope you’re feeling better. Oh well, I had a great time at the wedding – there were fireworks and Bangra music.

Other than that, this week has been quite quiet – went out to Notting Hill Arts Club with Neil to see the band night – happy hour before 9.30, so we had a few rounds of cocktails (Autumn Mules are da bomb). Made a fair amount of eye contact with the frontman from the first band (who were actually quite decent, mules or not), but then realised he was short after he got off the stage. Sadface. Neil then spent half an hour pointing out other boys, but none of them cut the mustard (what does that mean?!). Which led me to consider, am I simply saying no before anything happens in order not to get hurt?

I don’t think I am. Guys in skinny jeans just do not do it for me. Short guys either. Neanderthal eyebrows. Bad dress sense (hey, if I’ve got to be seen in public with them, I don’t want to be continuously cringing inside.. hell, or outside). Maybe NHAC isn’t the best place for me to be picking up. Haha, although as we were leaving, the frontman did double take as I walked past him. High fives me.

Friday was good, I went to the Natural History Museum with George to see the National Geographic Wildlife Photography of the Year exhibit. Bought a postcard, got some culture, tripped some kids over, all in all, a good time had by all. Friday night, went to Linda’s place for margaritas. Realised after the vomit-fest of my Mexican birthday party that I am no longer friends with tequila and the smell of it turned my stomach. I’ve always heard stories about that – a girl at high school drank a whole bottle of black sambuca, then threw it up at my mate’s place (Carly – Jasmine at Ben’s after-ball party), even a year later, that part of the floor was still sticky, she never touched it again.

Back to work tomorrow. Not particularly looking forward to it, except if they give me redundancy. Bah. I’m going to get some chocolate.

Had quite an entertaining weekend so far. Friday night had unexpected shenanigans – was basically assuming to be wiped out after tattoo work, but Nic called to find out if I was up to anything, so we went to see ‘Couples Retreat’ (if you see any movie in the next month, do not see that) and have a couple of drinks. The locals at the pub decided to buy us drinks, so we stayed quite late. Nic ended up staying at mine, was nice to get to know her a bit better without the boys around.

Georgina came over on Saturday night with mum (who had offered to cook roast – who the hell am I to turn that down?!), just chillaxed and watched some DVDs and drank Kir Royales (my new favourite tipple). I felt a bit bad, ’cause I was still achy from tatt and not in the most shiny happy people mood to be entertaining. OH. Especially since between the both of them, they talk through movies. I HATE TALKING DURING FILMS. It’s not just distracting, it makes the film lose suspense. Like when you’re watching ‘The Shining’ (not as scary as I thought it would be, but unnerving all the less). The roast was really good at any rate.

Sunday evening, I met with Neil at Angel in order to see Karnivool. Thought we’d check out Slim Jims, but it turns out that it’s dead on a Sunday night around 6.30pm. They were playing ‘Era Vulgaris’ in full, so it still retains its cool. After a pint, dinner at Nando’s, we headed to Islington Academy. Mr Merry is excellent company at gigs, because he’s happy to take the piss out of the support bands.

The first support was Skindred (who I’m going to check out further, they were quite energetic and the frontman had much personality) and the second band were just hilarious. Neil’s comment regarding the frontman,  “He’s like Jack Black, but without the knowing it’s comedic” was spot on.

Karnivool themselves were brilliant, even their new album tracks that I’d only heard once were really good. They played ‘Themata’ so I was happy. Aussie Phil knows the bass player, so I waited around after the show and said hi to him, on Phil’s behalf. Think he was genuinely pleased, seemed like a nice guy.

Friday night should be good, going to Linda’s for margaritas. Saturday could be one of two things, we’ll see how it goes. Sunday I should be going to Phil’s dinner party.. but it’s £50. I don’t know if I can afford that this month, what with the tattoo and birthday presents (not that I regret birthday present buying at ALL), will talk to him.

I was somewhat entertained to find out that the ex-boyfriend has gotten married (ahh, Facebook, where would voyeurism be without you? Probably in a trenchcoat, standing in a phonebox wanking). Moreso entertained while chatting to my mate Kate (who, in a previous life of primary school was a BFF), who was Jared’s girlfriend before me (yes, I know, sloppy seconds, etc etc) and ripping the shit out of the wedding photos, ie “Oh my god, we’re so much better looking than she is!” I don’t know the bride, I’m presuming they met at godbothering. A part of me feels guilty for giggling at the mint-green bridesmaid’s dresses, for being completely bitchy at the happiest day of this girl’s life.

Prodding myself about it, I’m not jealous at all and wish him all the best, but I guess it’s just that he found someone to be with, and it rankles because it’s obviously so difficult for me. Who are these people that get to be happy and smug in their coupledom? I know that once you’re in coupledom, the anxieties of trying to stay in coupledom (I imagine it’s like a kingdom, but without kings or a moat) are just as bad as the anxieties one has outside of it. I know that life’s not fair and all the fairytales and rom-coms and starcross’d lovers are fictional, but god damn it, when’s it my turn?

…Patience is a virtue, my ass.

So I’m off work for a week and a half, which is good timing, since I was pretty close to snapping. A letter has been released to our department, basically ensuring that we are all aware of the rules (ie, don’t be late, don’t go on breaks when it’s busy, don’t go on the interweb when it’s busy, etc). I may have disregarded these to a point (was 5 minutes late due to coffee need) and being told to take a 40 minute lunch break (opposed to the usual hour) after sitting at the computer for 6 hours straight (“screen breaks”.. yeah, enforce that), I made an executive decision to ignore my team leader and go to the pub with Sneil & Roger. Upon my return, I was slapped on the wrists (fair enough).

Reasons for not being motivated to work:
a) Treated like children.
b) Not being promoted.
c) Doing the same job (but faster and better) as people on double my salary.
d) The lack of morale in the office. Dead people are more fun. Think ‘Working at Bernie’s’.
e) Lack of variety within said work.

I just get so frustrated with my lack of ability to change any of the above (and I’ve tried), that I get angry and I need to stay in this damn role until I get paid out. ARRRRRRRRGH.

Right. After some deep breathing, we can move along. I’m getting a haircut & colour tomorrow, tattoo colouring on Friday, Pride & Prejudice marathon on Saturday with Mum & George (which includes a roast and cupcakes), Karnivool gig on Sunday with Shneil, Mon-Fri unconfirmed throughout, Saturday birthday gig with Linda, Sunday dinner with Phil.

Whenever I say I’ve got holidays, people seem disappointed when you say you’re not going anywhere. It’s ok, I can fill my days with appointments, rather than disappointments. …clearly I’m getting tired. Night.

Too many random events have happened since I last updated, so I’m just going to go with the current thoughts.

I was recently accused of needing to “sort my fucking life out”. Kettle, meet Pot. Anyway, it did lead me to examine the avenues of reality as it stands at the moment. Let us proceed.

Life:
I despise my job, but I continue in the hopes that they will make me redundant soon. I’m minorly concerned that they won’t be doing any further redundancies, but between now and February (going to leave at this point, even if no redundancy), I can make a fairly large dent in my debts anyway. What do I do after that? I have no idea. I like the idea of university, but no idea what I would study – maybe set design, or philosophy, or criminal forensics, or psychology, or all of the above.

I’ve got another 3 hour tattoo colouring appointment on the 16th, really looking forward to it.

Still considering the stand-up, have done a couple of hours here and there practising into the mirror, but I need to work more on which points are funny and why they’re funny, otherwise I end up just getting stuck on minor details.

Going to see Karnivool with Neil on the 19th Oct, really looking forward to that as well, need to get my hands on the second album.. yarrrr.

Love:
I’ve also been told that I’m just afraid I’ll get hurt in this department, so I make sure my standards are too high for any real person to fill. After considering this, I realised that it’s definitely not the case. I just know myself very well (who else to know better?) and I am aware of how easily I get bored and how much I need a person that can keep up with me, make me laugh or at least respond intelligently to random chatter. If I can determine within 5 minutes of conversation that a person can’t do that, they automatically fall from “worth my attention as more than a friend” to “a friend” or to “not worth any attention”. On top of that, a guy has to be physically attractive to me, or what’s the point? I can’t make myself go weak at the knees for no reason.

I read an article last week about love and how your body releases warm fuzzy chemicals after you’ve had sex with the same person after X amount of times, so that even when you see them, you get the snuggly feeling in your belly that people call love (or lust). It’s all physical, your logical brain has no power over your genetic need to procreate. In my own stubborn way, I refuse to be the product of my own physiology. If I can’t love them with my brain, then it’s not real love anyway.

Maybe my requirements are high, but it’s not as if I haven’t considered them. I’ve tried one night stands and been disappointed with the results (ie, it’s only one night – these things take practice). I’ve tried dating sites and only been contacted by old men and blind people. I don’t believe in God or fate or destiny and the only way I can see to meet a guy that I could brainlove is by absolute utter coincidence. It’s depressing and scary at times (like 2am in the morning, naming the cats I’ll have when I’m 70) but I refuse to enter a relationship that won’t last a 5 minute conversation.

MvR was in contact tonight, basically reminiscing about our previous encounters. Unfortunately, as I haven’t met anyone else that ticks both boxes, I did respond. I am completely aware he is so far out of bounds, he could be on the other side of the planet, but it was still an ego-boost to know he still thinks about me, girlfriend or not. Yes, I am also aware that he could be trying to line me up if his gf is out of the picture (hell, even if his gf isn’t out of the picture) and no, he will not be having his cake and eating it too. He brought up the time that I dropped the L word.. had thought it had fallen from his memory, apparently not. Don’t know why he mentioned it though, I figure he was testing the waters.

Miscellaneous:
Went to see ‘Away We Go’ with the girls (one of the random events of the past two weeks was making friends with Linda – Chopper’s mate from Adelaide – and Sarah – Ed’s mate from uni, who were both estatic about finding other girls that can banter), really enjoyed it. Reminded me of Juno and Knocked Up (strangely enough, it involves a pregnant couple), it has that indie movie type vibe – same director as American Beauty, which I loved.

Barney from the pub across the road has asked me to do a logo for him – they’re rebranding the Pig & Whistle to just ‘The Pig’. There’s a sister-pub called The Swan that the same guy owns, so it might be a couple of quids in my pocket, might be able to sell them into getting letterheads done as well.. £200 for each logo & layout, with additional changes on an hourly £20 rate should be acceptable?

Conclusion:
Life has no purpose and no meaning, other than to further a species that has few redeeming qualities. Either accept this and try to experience everything you possibly can, whenever you can. Alternatively, don’t do this and make excuses for why you don’t -  yes, this is aimed at you JP.

Frankly, what you all choose to do or not do is of no significance whatsoever. Sorry about that. Hugs all round.