Another weekend, another shiny new blog for you all to devour. I don't like saying 'all', I really should accost some fans some day. Though maybe if I leave it as is, it'll become a cult classic, to gradually be hailed by the whole world. I'll be like Emily Dickenson - uncovered in years to come!
Yeah, now I'm just being a twat. Back to my weekend...which was surprisingly very quiet! We'll ignore Lou and I getting far too excited about 'I Will Survive' coming on at Millie's 18th and me plotting to murder the exceedingly rude barmaid. I asked for a drink and you'd have thought I'd very crudely asked for a sexual favour by the way she looked at me. What a bitch.
On Saturday, I had an eagerly anticipated lie-in, having booked a weekend of death-row pardon (that's 'weekend off work' to you lot). However, my slightly groggy, sun-dappled morn was broken by the sight of my little brother hobbling into the flat. He informed us that he and some friends had been having a snowball fight at three in the morning, when he had slipped and heard his anklebone snap. In an attempt to be tough and manly (and, I suspect, delirious with pain), he had slept over it, which only exacerbated things. A taxi to the hospital with Mum and he was safely in plaster without having shed a tear. Almost causes a lump in the throat, does that brave little soldier - sniff.
After that, it was time to go to Tom's for some much-needed mash potato making. De Facto, Jen and Keef came over late afternoon, as we had all decided to see 'Cloverfield'. Having shared the most rubbish bottle of wine ever (like vinegary water for £8...proof money can't buy you everything), we trotted off to Cineworld.
I myself am a rather avid film connisseur, but I'm not beyond making immature comments during the trailers. The best one had to have come from De Facto, though. An advert for STIs featured some incredibly attractive people getting hot and heavy, though they were wearing garments with 'Gonnorhea' and the like printed on them. De Facto, very loudly, claimed 'If I'm honest, that'd put me off!', causing me to choke on my peanut M&M's in a fit of giggles.
Something that completely tipped me over the edge was a trailer for - wait for it - a U2 concert...in 3D. As a well-known Bono-hater, I was heard loudly muttering 'What a fucking cunt!' and so on, until Tom had to shove a handful of popcorn in my gob to silence me.
As for 'Cloverfield' itself, it really is much better than your run-of-the-mill modern horror film. Handheld camera work managed to save it from being too clichéd and we were genuinely chilled at the prospect of a monster tearing up Sheffield as we left the cinema.
Sunday was rightfully peaceful, so Tom and I drove down to The Old House for pub grub and then wandered round Topshop. I was originally going to allow him to meet the mother, but with the flat looking like a war hospital, I thought better of it.
Tomorrow is Elie's band's gig at The Harley, as well as some educational fun, it being a Monday and all. Until we meet again!
Sunday, 3 February 2008
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
Nothing Can Stop This Creeping Fear
This week so far has been a big melting pot of debauched fun and frolics and erm...parent's evenings. Nuff said.
Actually, the proper name is consultation evening (aka. a parent's 'but you're 18 now, so we make it sound more grown-up' evening). They're always odd experiences, are parent's - sorry CONSULTATION - evenings. Mainly because, if you're clever, you're getting complimented left, right and centre, but never actually to you. It's all "Isn't your daughter lovely?", while you sit there, grinning like a buffoon.
Still, who am I to complain about being bigged up, eh? Some of my favourite praises included "already working at an undergraduate level" and "With Mary-Jo, you can have a cup of tea and take a step back...she practically teaches herself!"
Straight after that, it was off to Tom's and then to West Street Live for my inner wild child to burst forth. Who am I kidding though? OJ of Oh My Word! infamy, at 28, is more of a wild child than I (or anyone else for that matter) will ever be. This Monday night, however, he seemed a little more nervous than usual and this was quickly pinned to the presence of his ex-girlfriend. Said ex is a model from America and they recently copped off again...even though she's married! I think they're at the 'just good friends' stage now though.
Jump a few days to last night, though and it was time to round up the troops and go to see Blood Red Shoes play the Leadmill. Meeting the friends in The Howard beforehand was absolutely lovely, until, much to the horror of Jen and I, who should we see on the cover of a local music magazine but that same musician from many posts ago?! The whole table, including Tom, thought this was hilarious and instantly craned around to get a look at him. Tom and Elie merely concluded that he needed a shave.
On to the Leadmill, however and the first band on, Dark Sparks, were pretty bloody fantastic if I do say so myself. Jen was relieved, since she's booked them for her first club night at DQ and I went and had a friendly chat with the frontman after their set and nabbed a free CD.
The second band on were Lovers and though most of us were in the over 18's bar sampling the cushions as they played, I have been informed they were brilliant. More fool me, eh? Jen had a chat to Blood Red Shoes' drummer/vocalist and seemed a little bit thrilled - she wants to have his babies, I hear.
Both members of Blood Red Shoes clambered onto the tiny stage to raucous applause and cheering and I must say they were excellent. Comapring them to The White Stripes (one boy, one girl...what time did you get to bed drawing up that comparison then?) is lazy journalism at its worse, as while the American duo deliberately go after that stripped-down sound, tonight's Brighton combo make more noise than a lot of bands you're likely to hear! They have justifiably been pushed into the limelight very suddenly and it was truly heartwarming to see the glee at the reception they received.
Tonight is Millie's 18th, which means...fancy dress party! Time to throw on my gun moll outfit and dance to some cheesy pop in a working men's club. More on that later though.
Actually, the proper name is consultation evening (aka. a parent's 'but you're 18 now, so we make it sound more grown-up' evening). They're always odd experiences, are parent's - sorry CONSULTATION - evenings. Mainly because, if you're clever, you're getting complimented left, right and centre, but never actually to you. It's all "Isn't your daughter lovely?", while you sit there, grinning like a buffoon.
Still, who am I to complain about being bigged up, eh? Some of my favourite praises included "already working at an undergraduate level" and "With Mary-Jo, you can have a cup of tea and take a step back...she practically teaches herself!"
Straight after that, it was off to Tom's and then to West Street Live for my inner wild child to burst forth. Who am I kidding though? OJ of Oh My Word! infamy, at 28, is more of a wild child than I (or anyone else for that matter) will ever be. This Monday night, however, he seemed a little more nervous than usual and this was quickly pinned to the presence of his ex-girlfriend. Said ex is a model from America and they recently copped off again...even though she's married! I think they're at the 'just good friends' stage now though.
Jump a few days to last night, though and it was time to round up the troops and go to see Blood Red Shoes play the Leadmill. Meeting the friends in The Howard beforehand was absolutely lovely, until, much to the horror of Jen and I, who should we see on the cover of a local music magazine but that same musician from many posts ago?! The whole table, including Tom, thought this was hilarious and instantly craned around to get a look at him. Tom and Elie merely concluded that he needed a shave.
On to the Leadmill, however and the first band on, Dark Sparks, were pretty bloody fantastic if I do say so myself. Jen was relieved, since she's booked them for her first club night at DQ and I went and had a friendly chat with the frontman after their set and nabbed a free CD.
The second band on were Lovers and though most of us were in the over 18's bar sampling the cushions as they played, I have been informed they were brilliant. More fool me, eh? Jen had a chat to Blood Red Shoes' drummer/vocalist and seemed a little bit thrilled - she wants to have his babies, I hear.
Both members of Blood Red Shoes clambered onto the tiny stage to raucous applause and cheering and I must say they were excellent. Comapring them to The White Stripes (one boy, one girl...what time did you get to bed drawing up that comparison then?) is lazy journalism at its worse, as while the American duo deliberately go after that stripped-down sound, tonight's Brighton combo make more noise than a lot of bands you're likely to hear! They have justifiably been pushed into the limelight very suddenly and it was truly heartwarming to see the glee at the reception they received.
Tonight is Millie's 18th, which means...fancy dress party! Time to throw on my gun moll outfit and dance to some cheesy pop in a working men's club. More on that later though.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Find Yourself A New Glass
Well, last time I blogged here I mentioned that this blog might take disturbing, new, socialite-like forms. Since I'm not one to let a reader (i.e. Nina...and, erm, that's it) down, what better way to start my Hilton-esque ramblings than with an account of my weekend?
Friday involved mucho twee indie fun at Offbeat, which was celebrating its 11th birthday. Keef, Elie, Tom and I bundled into a taxi and, while the boys went in search of a cash machine, Elie and I took advantage of a rather special drinks offer in the S1 bar: 'Buy two glasses of rosé wine and get the rest of the bottle free!'. Plonking ourselves onto some sofas, we met some of Elie's friends to compare mix CDs.
In celebration of its 11th birthday, you see, Offbeat was issuing its very first mix CD challenge. The idea was that you make a CD, hand it into the DJ booth and get given one by a fellow Offbeater, hopefully getting into some new music.
Mine was full of twee songs which were sure to please Offbeat's regular clientelle and I had even drawn balloons and an Offbeat birthday cake on the handmade (aka. a folded up piece of lilac thin card) case, so imagine my outrage when the CD I received didn't even have a tracklist! It just had the bloke's email address! I said to the others (now including OJ, Sleeves and Rob), 'This best be the best fucking mix CD EVER!'
After a second bottle of wine, what should come on but 'Bathroom Gurgle' by Late of the Pier? Thrilled that a song had come on that they actually knew, Keef and Tom quickly hightailed it to the dancefloor with Elie and I. We were bounding about like the bonafide nutters we are when I, obviously too caught up in the music and the alcohol, suddenly lost all control of my wine glass, which smashed on Offbeat's floor.
Utterly shocked, humiliated and highly amused, I stood at the bar for what felt like donkey's years, dreading asking for JUST a glass! Luckily the rather lovely barman just laughed and pretended it would cost me a pound and I happily toddled over to the bottle of rosé.
A few more glasses of wine and some Offbeat birthday cake (yummmm!) later, I was delightfully squiffy and ended up blurting out to Tom that I loved him. Luckily, he did not suddenly become very transfixed with his shoelaces, but seemed thrilled I'd said it and said he loved me too. A very happy bunny, I got into a taxi to get a few hours sleep before work on Saturday morning.
Work was, as usual, mind-numbingly boring, so I am not even going to write about that. At about 2, Tom picked me up to help him pick out some clothes and assist him in getting a haircut at Toni & Guy. I had been chirruping all week that I most definitely knew where it was - this, owever, turned out to be a big raging lie, as the hairdressers I thought it was was actually called Essensuals. After ringing Keef and De Facto, we eventually plumped for asking Jen, who was with De Facto (apparently, he hadn't answered because he was laden with bags from Holland & Barrett) and all met in a bar near to the actual Toni & Guy for a quick drink.
All of the employees at Toni & Guy look like they should be gracing the pages of i-D! I may have to go there for my next haircut, purely because their's looked so very good. Tom's looked lovely too and afterwards, I was quick to grab him and shout 'You can see more of that beautiful faaace!' in my best 'dinner lady' voice.
Tom and I had a lovely night in eating Chinese food, but I had to wake up ridiculously early to get a taxi home so I could get ready for work. Ironically, since one of our sets of keys has gone missing, both Mum and I were locked out. The duty of letting us in had been passed down to Nick, who, of course, was dead to the world and wouldn't even wake up when security rang the flat. Knowing I would be drastically late for work and having utterly given up trying to rouse my sleeping brother, Mum and I went for breakfast and had lovely chit chats. You haven't lived until you've sat eating Egg McMuffins with messy hair and eyeliner.
Hopefully, this coming week should be just as fun. The Oh My Word! boys have a gig on Monday and on Thursday, I'm on the guestlist for Blood Red Shoes, so I will update very soon.
P.S. The mix CD actually was rather brilliant. I've emailed the guy asking for a tracklist, but no reply so far...HMMBAH!
Friday involved mucho twee indie fun at Offbeat, which was celebrating its 11th birthday. Keef, Elie, Tom and I bundled into a taxi and, while the boys went in search of a cash machine, Elie and I took advantage of a rather special drinks offer in the S1 bar: 'Buy two glasses of rosé wine and get the rest of the bottle free!'. Plonking ourselves onto some sofas, we met some of Elie's friends to compare mix CDs.
In celebration of its 11th birthday, you see, Offbeat was issuing its very first mix CD challenge. The idea was that you make a CD, hand it into the DJ booth and get given one by a fellow Offbeater, hopefully getting into some new music.
Mine was full of twee songs which were sure to please Offbeat's regular clientelle and I had even drawn balloons and an Offbeat birthday cake on the handmade (aka. a folded up piece of lilac thin card) case, so imagine my outrage when the CD I received didn't even have a tracklist! It just had the bloke's email address! I said to the others (now including OJ, Sleeves and Rob), 'This best be the best fucking mix CD EVER!'
After a second bottle of wine, what should come on but 'Bathroom Gurgle' by Late of the Pier? Thrilled that a song had come on that they actually knew, Keef and Tom quickly hightailed it to the dancefloor with Elie and I. We were bounding about like the bonafide nutters we are when I, obviously too caught up in the music and the alcohol, suddenly lost all control of my wine glass, which smashed on Offbeat's floor.
Utterly shocked, humiliated and highly amused, I stood at the bar for what felt like donkey's years, dreading asking for JUST a glass! Luckily the rather lovely barman just laughed and pretended it would cost me a pound and I happily toddled over to the bottle of rosé.
A few more glasses of wine and some Offbeat birthday cake (yummmm!) later, I was delightfully squiffy and ended up blurting out to Tom that I loved him. Luckily, he did not suddenly become very transfixed with his shoelaces, but seemed thrilled I'd said it and said he loved me too. A very happy bunny, I got into a taxi to get a few hours sleep before work on Saturday morning.
Work was, as usual, mind-numbingly boring, so I am not even going to write about that. At about 2, Tom picked me up to help him pick out some clothes and assist him in getting a haircut at Toni & Guy. I had been chirruping all week that I most definitely knew where it was - this, owever, turned out to be a big raging lie, as the hairdressers I thought it was was actually called Essensuals. After ringing Keef and De Facto, we eventually plumped for asking Jen, who was with De Facto (apparently, he hadn't answered because he was laden with bags from Holland & Barrett) and all met in a bar near to the actual Toni & Guy for a quick drink.
All of the employees at Toni & Guy look like they should be gracing the pages of i-D! I may have to go there for my next haircut, purely because their's looked so very good. Tom's looked lovely too and afterwards, I was quick to grab him and shout 'You can see more of that beautiful faaace!' in my best 'dinner lady' voice.
Tom and I had a lovely night in eating Chinese food, but I had to wake up ridiculously early to get a taxi home so I could get ready for work. Ironically, since one of our sets of keys has gone missing, both Mum and I were locked out. The duty of letting us in had been passed down to Nick, who, of course, was dead to the world and wouldn't even wake up when security rang the flat. Knowing I would be drastically late for work and having utterly given up trying to rouse my sleeping brother, Mum and I went for breakfast and had lovely chit chats. You haven't lived until you've sat eating Egg McMuffins with messy hair and eyeliner.
Hopefully, this coming week should be just as fun. The Oh My Word! boys have a gig on Monday and on Thursday, I'm on the guestlist for Blood Red Shoes, so I will update very soon.
P.S. The mix CD actually was rather brilliant. I've emailed the guy asking for a tracklist, but no reply so far...HMMBAH!
Thursday, 17 January 2008
Missed The Last Bus...
...I realise that's no excuse for being late in my blogging, avid readers and for that I am sorry!
"Well," I replied "I don't want to say anything, because I don't know how many people you know that I know." What I really meant was that I was sure he would know, since my friend works in music promotion.
"Put it this way, I know ----- is a complete wanker to girls...and guys for that matter."
Turns out musician uses this wounded puppy act (it's fucking irresistable) to lure people into bed...and obviously I fell for it. Slut with a capital 'S', so he is.
However, every cloud has a silver lining as they say, because my informant then went on to tell me that the exact same thing had happened to one of his best friends and said that the two of us should meet up and "compare notes", which we did. It is through these two new friends that I made a whole host of new friends and met my boyfriend! Oh yes, readers, you heard it here first (unless you know me and you're reading this, of course)!
His name is Tom and he truly is rather lovely, both physically and personality-wise and it's been over a month since we got together with nothing going wrong! I don't want this to turn into an 'OMG I luff ma bf sooo much!!!111' type blog, so I'll just say I couldn't be happier right now.
On other news, I am eagerly awaiting offers from various universities to study English. So far, I've been given a conditional offer from Sheffield, but I'm truly holding out for Manchester or Leeds. Watch this space for more details.
You can also expect this blog to take on some weird 'Diary Of A Socialite' sort of form (though with no ghostwriters and less grammatical errors), as since the age of the first legal pint came to pass in October, I have been hitting the tiles more and more. Hence many a drunken antic to be recounted and mystery bruises to weep over. If that doesn't get me some avid readers this year...well, I'll just have to try harder.
Actually, come to think of it, I haven't any avid readers really. I should probably set about finding some.
So, last time I wrote, a musician was giving me Giant Question Mark Above Head Syndrome and...actually, yeah that seems to be about it. I'm glad I actually got a life recently.
My embarrassing schoolgirl crush on said musician was extinguished like a raging inferno when I found out some particularly incriminating news about him. Shortly after my last post, I befriended a rather lovely bloke (we're still very good friends now) and, without naming names, told him of the musician fandango. Said friend replied with "I bet I know who it is.""Well," I replied "I don't want to say anything, because I don't know how many people you know that I know." What I really meant was that I was sure he would know, since my friend works in music promotion.
"Put it this way, I know ----- is a complete wanker to girls...and guys for that matter."
Turns out musician uses this wounded puppy act (it's fucking irresistable) to lure people into bed...and obviously I fell for it. Slut with a capital 'S', so he is.
However, every cloud has a silver lining as they say, because my informant then went on to tell me that the exact same thing had happened to one of his best friends and said that the two of us should meet up and "compare notes", which we did. It is through these two new friends that I made a whole host of new friends and met my boyfriend! Oh yes, readers, you heard it here first (unless you know me and you're reading this, of course)!
His name is Tom and he truly is rather lovely, both physically and personality-wise and it's been over a month since we got together with nothing going wrong! I don't want this to turn into an 'OMG I luff ma bf sooo much!!!111' type blog, so I'll just say I couldn't be happier right now.
On other news, I am eagerly awaiting offers from various universities to study English. So far, I've been given a conditional offer from Sheffield, but I'm truly holding out for Manchester or Leeds. Watch this space for more details.
You can also expect this blog to take on some weird 'Diary Of A Socialite' sort of form (though with no ghostwriters and less grammatical errors), as since the age of the first legal pint came to pass in October, I have been hitting the tiles more and more. Hence many a drunken antic to be recounted and mystery bruises to weep over. If that doesn't get me some avid readers this year...well, I'll just have to try harder.
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
Cereal and Windowsills
We moved into the new flat on Sunday, I'm really rather chuffed!
First off, the weekend, on Saturday, after work, I met my stepmum, Beth, for a coffee. It was very nice to catch up with her and have a proper chat and then we went and looked around the shops. She treated me to the most gorgeous outfit to wear on my 18th; a silver clutch bag, a knee-length, dark blue, swishy dress with matching heels. I tried it on in the changing rooms (it was a bloody battle getting the thing on, I wish dresses would just stick to having zips at the back rather than on the sides!) and I looked good...really good. Almost like someone from a 1940's film. I have promised Beth I will take lots of photos on my birthday so she can see how lovely I look (note to self: take pictures before gin and general debauchery).
After that, it was staying up late, watching films with Dad, before sloping off to bed, as I had work early the next morning. It was a nightmare! I came, ooh...THIS close to slapping Manager Dawn's patronising, old witch face silly. Sadly, I would probably get sacked and therefore not get paid and we all know I need the money. I'm working overtime this coming Sunday now, from nine till six. This wouldn't be too bad, but I'm going to see The Cribs with Ally the night before, so work will be bruises and achey muscles. Should be a new experience if anything!
Late Sunday afternoon, I went to the cinema with some of the girls to see 'Atonement'. It's a truly brilliant film and absolutely gorgeously shot. Anyone who hasn't seen it yet really should get their hands on some tickets, even if it's just for James McAvoy (I can't quite put my finger on why I fancy him so much...I just do). Hilariously, Hannah only understood that the whole thing was based on a lie half an hour towards the end, despite the fact that they tell you this in all the interviews and trailers! We ripped the piss out of her incessantly for it. She may have got all A's in her AS levels and be a mathematical genius, but she can be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to non-empirical matters, bless her.
I went home to the flat, rather than to my old house. It was very exciting waiting for secuirty to say I could go upstairs and even though there is furniture all over the place at the moment, I feel I could be very happy here. I woke up yesterday morning and, after getting ready for school, ate my breakfast on the windowsill. It's big enough for me to stretch my legs out and watch the city wake up. I did the same this morning too, so I think it may become a routine.
Things are getting bizarre on the dashing young musican front again. On Friday night, I had the house (old house) to myself. Nick had gone to Dad's and Mum had gone to Brighton Beach (a club night that plays Britpop, Northern Soul, psychedelia etc.) with Lynds. As most people who are bored out of their wits end do, I spent most of the night on MySpace. I put a bulletin up about my 18th birthday party and musician sent a message back saying "sounds very nice xx"...with NO mention of the message I had sent him at the start of last week! In my magnificent display of being a coward, I did not give him what for, but simply replied, "It does promise to be. If I remember any of it..." and left it at that.
Later that night, I was still bored, painfully so. I posted another bulletin saying that I was bored of my Friday night indoors and did anyone fancy a chat. However, I soon realised I should probably get to bed, due to my early shift the next day.
Getting up for work the next morning, I saw I had a new message....from musican...saying he would like a chat! What was he playing at? Perhaps he was going to respond to my more important message gradually through these ones. I asked him how he was and have got no reply since.
I really have no idea what he could be up to. I'm wondering if he was drunk on Friday night and is now feeling embarrassed about messaging me, either that or he's just tempremental and possibly slightly bizarre...neither would surprise me.
He could have message me back since Sunday, I wouldn't know, as the internet hasn't been set up in the flat yet and you can't access MySpace on the school computers, where I am writing this. I'm planning on going to an internet cafe tomorrow, where they're less trigger-happy with the firewalls. I know I sohludn't be so bothered about him, but these mad out-of-the-blue displays of affection and non-affection only make me want him more. He has this intriguing, mysterious quality that I've always wanted to see in a man and have certainly never seen in previous boyfriends. I do know, though, that if things carry on like this, I will have to get over myself. It's unhealthy to get so het up over one person.
Au revoir
Mo
xxxx
First off, the weekend, on Saturday, after work, I met my stepmum, Beth, for a coffee. It was very nice to catch up with her and have a proper chat and then we went and looked around the shops. She treated me to the most gorgeous outfit to wear on my 18th; a silver clutch bag, a knee-length, dark blue, swishy dress with matching heels. I tried it on in the changing rooms (it was a bloody battle getting the thing on, I wish dresses would just stick to having zips at the back rather than on the sides!) and I looked good...really good. Almost like someone from a 1940's film. I have promised Beth I will take lots of photos on my birthday so she can see how lovely I look (note to self: take pictures before gin and general debauchery).
After that, it was staying up late, watching films with Dad, before sloping off to bed, as I had work early the next morning. It was a nightmare! I came, ooh...THIS close to slapping Manager Dawn's patronising, old witch face silly. Sadly, I would probably get sacked and therefore not get paid and we all know I need the money. I'm working overtime this coming Sunday now, from nine till six. This wouldn't be too bad, but I'm going to see The Cribs with Ally the night before, so work will be bruises and achey muscles. Should be a new experience if anything!
Late Sunday afternoon, I went to the cinema with some of the girls to see 'Atonement'. It's a truly brilliant film and absolutely gorgeously shot. Anyone who hasn't seen it yet really should get their hands on some tickets, even if it's just for James McAvoy (I can't quite put my finger on why I fancy him so much...I just do). Hilariously, Hannah only understood that the whole thing was based on a lie half an hour towards the end, despite the fact that they tell you this in all the interviews and trailers! We ripped the piss out of her incessantly for it. She may have got all A's in her AS levels and be a mathematical genius, but she can be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to non-empirical matters, bless her.
I went home to the flat, rather than to my old house. It was very exciting waiting for secuirty to say I could go upstairs and even though there is furniture all over the place at the moment, I feel I could be very happy here. I woke up yesterday morning and, after getting ready for school, ate my breakfast on the windowsill. It's big enough for me to stretch my legs out and watch the city wake up. I did the same this morning too, so I think it may become a routine.
Things are getting bizarre on the dashing young musican front again. On Friday night, I had the house (old house) to myself. Nick had gone to Dad's and Mum had gone to Brighton Beach (a club night that plays Britpop, Northern Soul, psychedelia etc.) with Lynds. As most people who are bored out of their wits end do, I spent most of the night on MySpace. I put a bulletin up about my 18th birthday party and musician sent a message back saying "sounds very nice xx"...with NO mention of the message I had sent him at the start of last week! In my magnificent display of being a coward, I did not give him what for, but simply replied, "It does promise to be. If I remember any of it..." and left it at that.
Later that night, I was still bored, painfully so. I posted another bulletin saying that I was bored of my Friday night indoors and did anyone fancy a chat. However, I soon realised I should probably get to bed, due to my early shift the next day.
Getting up for work the next morning, I saw I had a new message....from musican...saying he would like a chat! What was he playing at? Perhaps he was going to respond to my more important message gradually through these ones. I asked him how he was and have got no reply since.
I really have no idea what he could be up to. I'm wondering if he was drunk on Friday night and is now feeling embarrassed about messaging me, either that or he's just tempremental and possibly slightly bizarre...neither would surprise me.
He could have message me back since Sunday, I wouldn't know, as the internet hasn't been set up in the flat yet and you can't access MySpace on the school computers, where I am writing this. I'm planning on going to an internet cafe tomorrow, where they're less trigger-happy with the firewalls. I know I sohludn't be so bothered about him, but these mad out-of-the-blue displays of affection and non-affection only make me want him more. He has this intriguing, mysterious quality that I've always wanted to see in a man and have certainly never seen in previous boyfriends. I do know, though, that if things carry on like this, I will have to get over myself. It's unhealthy to get so het up over one person.
Au revoir
Mo
xxxx
Wednesday, 26 September 2007
SNORT!
Yes, that's right, friends, you heard it here first...
I have started snorting when I laugh!
I'm not quite sure how it happened...all I know is that today, when I met up with Lou, I couldn't stop laughing...and snorting! Lou thought it hilarious, saying it made me sound like a nerd. She's probably right.
It was nice though, we ate Subway sandwiches and drank hot chocolate and I was wearing a beret, which always makes me feel very good about myself. However, I'm reading 'Nausea' by Jean-Paul Sartre and was sat on a bench reading it, before Lou came along. There I was, reading my French book, wearing my French hat and huddled in a blue military-style jacket to warn off the cold. 'Pretentious arsehole!' I hear you cry, but you wouldn't say that if you'd heard me snort...
I'm in a very chipper mood today actually. Sara was taking pictures of me for her photography project and kept making me laugh, so there were lots of pictures of me pulling hideous faces. Sadly, Sara's camera had a major freakout, deleted all her photos and then broke completely. She was most agitated.
We have new furniture in our new flat (moving in this weekend I think, woohoo!), so our sofas have been given away to those less fortunate (family friend Dean, who is currently sat on garden furniture). The living room is so bare!
As for the boy front (read my last blog for more info), I told him I still liked him and asked if he would let me know, even if he wasn't interested....and he hasn't! What a hypocritical arse, eh? Why get in touch with me, to apologise for ignoring me, only to do it again?
Oh well, I don't care. He's a wanker. A big wanking wanker. And I mean that too.
Maybe I'll become a nun...or a lesbian. They don't need men to have a good time.
On that note, until next time, my friends!
I have started snorting when I laugh!
I'm not quite sure how it happened...all I know is that today, when I met up with Lou, I couldn't stop laughing...and snorting! Lou thought it hilarious, saying it made me sound like a nerd. She's probably right.
It was nice though, we ate Subway sandwiches and drank hot chocolate and I was wearing a beret, which always makes me feel very good about myself. However, I'm reading 'Nausea' by Jean-Paul Sartre and was sat on a bench reading it, before Lou came along. There I was, reading my French book, wearing my French hat and huddled in a blue military-style jacket to warn off the cold. 'Pretentious arsehole!' I hear you cry, but you wouldn't say that if you'd heard me snort...
I'm in a very chipper mood today actually. Sara was taking pictures of me for her photography project and kept making me laugh, so there were lots of pictures of me pulling hideous faces. Sadly, Sara's camera had a major freakout, deleted all her photos and then broke completely. She was most agitated.
We have new furniture in our new flat (moving in this weekend I think, woohoo!), so our sofas have been given away to those less fortunate (family friend Dean, who is currently sat on garden furniture). The living room is so bare!
As for the boy front (read my last blog for more info), I told him I still liked him and asked if he would let me know, even if he wasn't interested....and he hasn't! What a hypocritical arse, eh? Why get in touch with me, to apologise for ignoring me, only to do it again?
Oh well, I don't care. He's a wanker. A big wanking wanker. And I mean that too.
Maybe I'll become a nun...or a lesbian. They don't need men to have a good time.
On that note, until next time, my friends!
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Of course I'm being productive, darling
Yes, alright, I have a free period this morning, so what do I do? I write a blog...God forbid I read 'Frankenstein' for English Literature or work on my UCAS application.
Well for your information, I actually tried all of this, but UCAS can make typing your own name a fete of Olympic standards! My head is buzzing with so many things this week and I just have to get them out or I'll go barmy.
It's a fact acknowledged by all that private renting can be a bitch, particularly if you have our landlord. Yes, he may have seemed like an angel, but when he refused to fix our oven and often dodgy heating system, we saw cracks in the Happy Home plaster. THEN, my friends, then he decides we may have to move out as he is considering renting the house to a relative. Thanks very much, landlord!
Luckily, it's all come up rosy in the end, as Mum, somehow, I suspect by being the Sheffield equivalent of an Amazon tribeswoman, others suspect drugs smuggling, has got us a new flat! And not just any new flat...a gorgeous apartment complex just off of the town centre! It has a sun terrace and security and everything! And only £70 a week for rent! There's a two year waiting list, but WE managed to bag one. Perhaps someone finally took pity on us...
In other news, it's all 'lost in translation' on the boy front. Sometime in early August, I was asked out by a gorgeous, talented musician. We went for a couple of drinks and then back to his, where I showed him...ah-hem, some of my etchings. So imagine how upset I was when he did not text or message me back!
"That's what you get, you loser." I scolded myself, "You gave too much up front and now you'll be a lonely spinster wearing jumpers covered in cat hair and drinking warm milk." What could be so unappealing about me that I didn't get asked out again? I spent the rest of the summer holidays questioning myself, my usually stable self-esteem thrown into disrepute.
Imagine my shock, then, when, over a month later, I get up for work on Sunday morning, open my MySpace account and have a new message...from the very same musician! "Bugger me!" I thought, my heart about to explode from my chest (anything to improve my uniform).
He apologised for being so rude and not replying to my messages. Apparently, he had had things to deal with, after our meeting up, completely unrelated to me, but he took it out on me, by being, in his words, "a dick".
I suppose I could have given him 'what for', but I didn't. Suppose these things to deal with were really very serious, I wouldn't want someone having a go at me at a time like that. So, I very politely told him I would have understood had he told me sooner, but that I was glad of his apology and hoped we could be alright. I got a reply: "Your kindness is more than I deserve. I'm really very sorry."
In the words of Nina, Queen of Understatement in purple skinny jeans, "Wow, that's a bit heavy."
The awful thing is, I now can't dismiss the apology from my mind. It really does seem too genuine to be read as a last-ditch attempt to get his leg over, particularly since he hasn't messaged me since. The only thing I've ever wanted from the two boys who ever really hurt me (I realise how emo that sounds) was an apology. I truly believe it would have helped me move on from them quicker. However, I never got it. So the fact that I got it from this guy, who was never anywhere near as bad as the two heartbreakers, has made me pretty, well...smitten with him! I mean, I fancied him lots to begin with (talented, incredible dark eyes...Jesus, have you got a week?), but now I can't get him off my mind.
And the awful thing is, I think he's too plunged in the depths of melancholy from whatever's happened recently to be interested in me. Either that, or he thinks he's blown it. I could never raise the question of seeing him again, as I'd be too frightened of rejection.
So, now I'm back to my natural state, permanently confused. Thank God the colourful leaves of autumn lie in the streets for me to kick through. That'll cheer me up.
Until next time,
Mo
xxxx
Well for your information, I actually tried all of this, but UCAS can make typing your own name a fete of Olympic standards! My head is buzzing with so many things this week and I just have to get them out or I'll go barmy.
It's a fact acknowledged by all that private renting can be a bitch, particularly if you have our landlord. Yes, he may have seemed like an angel, but when he refused to fix our oven and often dodgy heating system, we saw cracks in the Happy Home plaster. THEN, my friends, then he decides we may have to move out as he is considering renting the house to a relative. Thanks very much, landlord!
Luckily, it's all come up rosy in the end, as Mum, somehow, I suspect by being the Sheffield equivalent of an Amazon tribeswoman, others suspect drugs smuggling, has got us a new flat! And not just any new flat...a gorgeous apartment complex just off of the town centre! It has a sun terrace and security and everything! And only £70 a week for rent! There's a two year waiting list, but WE managed to bag one. Perhaps someone finally took pity on us...
In other news, it's all 'lost in translation' on the boy front. Sometime in early August, I was asked out by a gorgeous, talented musician. We went for a couple of drinks and then back to his, where I showed him...ah-hem, some of my etchings. So imagine how upset I was when he did not text or message me back!
"That's what you get, you loser." I scolded myself, "You gave too much up front and now you'll be a lonely spinster wearing jumpers covered in cat hair and drinking warm milk." What could be so unappealing about me that I didn't get asked out again? I spent the rest of the summer holidays questioning myself, my usually stable self-esteem thrown into disrepute.
Imagine my shock, then, when, over a month later, I get up for work on Sunday morning, open my MySpace account and have a new message...from the very same musician! "Bugger me!" I thought, my heart about to explode from my chest (anything to improve my uniform).
He apologised for being so rude and not replying to my messages. Apparently, he had had things to deal with, after our meeting up, completely unrelated to me, but he took it out on me, by being, in his words, "a dick".
I suppose I could have given him 'what for', but I didn't. Suppose these things to deal with were really very serious, I wouldn't want someone having a go at me at a time like that. So, I very politely told him I would have understood had he told me sooner, but that I was glad of his apology and hoped we could be alright. I got a reply: "Your kindness is more than I deserve. I'm really very sorry."
In the words of Nina, Queen of Understatement in purple skinny jeans, "Wow, that's a bit heavy."
The awful thing is, I now can't dismiss the apology from my mind. It really does seem too genuine to be read as a last-ditch attempt to get his leg over, particularly since he hasn't messaged me since. The only thing I've ever wanted from the two boys who ever really hurt me (I realise how emo that sounds) was an apology. I truly believe it would have helped me move on from them quicker. However, I never got it. So the fact that I got it from this guy, who was never anywhere near as bad as the two heartbreakers, has made me pretty, well...smitten with him! I mean, I fancied him lots to begin with (talented, incredible dark eyes...Jesus, have you got a week?), but now I can't get him off my mind.
And the awful thing is, I think he's too plunged in the depths of melancholy from whatever's happened recently to be interested in me. Either that, or he thinks he's blown it. I could never raise the question of seeing him again, as I'd be too frightened of rejection.
So, now I'm back to my natural state, permanently confused. Thank God the colourful leaves of autumn lie in the streets for me to kick through. That'll cheer me up.
Until next time,
Mo
xxxx
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