Ho hum.

We all know it's weird weather today, so I won't harp on. Suffice to say, I would dearly like it to rain a bit harder than the fairy piss falling from the sky right now. I'm not a fan of storms (shriek!) but the headache I have at the moment is getting rather painful and distracting. Crash bang wallop, if you please, and release the pressure!

---------------

I've took that asthma medicine-stuff for five days as instructed and have to see how things are from today onwards. Well my chest is feeling tight but then again the weather is very humid, plus if I've been taking stuff that relaxes it for five days, I suppose it will feel a little funny for the time being. I hope it wears off soon, it worries me.

---------------

Tomorrow is technically my first day of unemployment. Hurrah, eh? I'm bored at home already. I haven't unpacked anything yet, and although mum and dad haven't told me to as such, I suspect tomorrow they may get a bit cross if I sit and read all day. My plan is to try and get a fair bit done tomorrow purely so that dad can't have a go at me about being an unemployed loser that is no longer contributing anything to anything *sigh*. I made his tea last night though, what more does he want?

--------------

I still haven't heard anything about the warden job thingy in Hull. I kinda need to know soon. Not knowing what I'm doing is a novelty that will start to wear off fairly rapidly, I think.

-------------

There are a few other issues in my head at the moment, but I think they're for private posting only, if at all.

HA HA HA HA HA! Trumpets.

My dad will be here in 24 hours, to pack me and the entire contents of the flat into the car. I fully expect it to take 2 or 3 trips at least.

I am sat on my bed, looking at the mess, and wibbling. The biggest problem I have really is that I don't have anything to pack the stuff into. I'm just going to have to make piles and smile sweetly at daddy.

I definitely have to be completely out by tomorrow afternoon, leaving a sparkling flat - because the landlord has someone to move in. Friday evening.

I am supposed to be going out for dinner with someone tonight. I don't really want to cancel this, but I think I may have to. I have too much to do and no one else to blame, again, which really does piss me off.

And, if I don't cancel, under no circumstances can that person be here in the morning.

My landlord just rang and asked if he could show people round my flat today while I'm at work.

Fine, fine.

Except - oh my god...

I cannot even begin to express the horror at what he will find in my bedroom. Knickers. Unclean knickers. And gawd knows what else...

Well, actually, I've only worked here two years, but that's something of an era when it's the longest job you've had.

One hour into my last day, and I have achieved:

1) Eating a pile of mini chocolate eggs that appeared on my desk overnight.

That's it.

I'm sad to be leaving as some people I work with are friends.

The issue now, which I have successfully managed to avoid blogging so far, is that I do not know where I will be going after this. I will either be staying here and doing an MA, or going to Manchester. I can't rush this decision though, however much I want to. There are lots of factors that are very boring and may sound stupid, so I'm keeping them in my head for now.

One thing's for sure though - I haven't got a job, and I'm moving back to my parents' house in the meantime.

REJOICE!

I feel quite sick. I don't think it's just the mini eggs.

Sister query again:

I'm so annoyed.

You know how on my old laptop the keyboard buttons were all retarded? I've bought a new one, which was fine, but now i've transferred everything from my old one and now the keyboard settings on this lovely new dell one are retarded too. Is there a way of fixing it do you know? It annoys me so much, I don't have a pound sign and my quote signs and @ signs are all jumbled. It's SO annoying.

I fixed her old one but I'm disinclined to remember how.

...like, now. Now!

Clicky.

It is naughty to post porn on here. Winkies and fannies and all that. We know that.

At approximately 3.17am on Sunday, Mr Rampage informed us all that, because BCUK HQ is in Germany, and Germany is part of the crazy hedonistic land known as mainland Europe, it is NOT naughty to post...

NIPPLES!

Spiffing.

After waiting over an hour for my 'urgent' appointment slot, I finally got to see my verrrry African doctor.

I explained calmly that some invisible force was choking me and that I suspected Dementors were to blame.

Thankfully he thought otherwise. Poke, prod, listen, blow, cough, wheeze, etc.

"You had azz-mar as a child?"

"Yes, I grew out of it"

"No, you didn't. These things tend to come back with the right trigger. Which could be anything."

"Balls."

Rather than scare me with inhalers at this stage, I have some liquid medication that has two functions and two functions only:

1) Open the airways of the lungs
2) Relax the muscles of the womb

So this could be fun, given that I am also taking things at the moment to prevent the second one from happening. It will also give me the shakes.

Needless to say, it tastes vile.

But it did come with a little blue spoon, which is really cute.

So all in all, an excellent start to my second to last day at work. In order to aid my recovery, I won't be doing a damn thing.

RE the 5am drivel about not being able to breathe properly...

...I still can't breathe properly. I am worried. I hope it just a chest infection that feels the need to grip the entrance to my lungs like a vice.

I am going to the doctors at 11am, which is only a ten minute walk away, so in the mean time I'm going to see if I can do what I couldn't between the hours of 4am - 8am...sleep.

Y'know it occured to me, whilst non-sleeping on 4 pillows, that the daft nurse on the phone last night didn't even ask me if I smoke, let alone whether I'd been around any. Dumbass.

Choke-splutter-wave.

It is 4.53am and I am sat on the internet. Why? Because the NHS Direct nurse I just spoke to told me to stay sat up all night and call the doctors as soon as they open, her suggestion being "Read a book and try not to think about it else you'll probably panic. I'm bored of this, gerroff the phone, bye!". Feck off. To the internet!

When I woke up at Chez Gay yesterday I had a very tight chest. This lasted all morning, all while at the airport, during the flight, all the way home, and all evening, my chest getting tighter and tighter, starting to cough and wheeze. About an hour ago, I woke up unable to breathe at all.

Really feeling rather "WTF!?", I looked up that favourite past-time of mine as a (PE-hating) child - asthma. Ahhh, bollocks. Sounds about right.

"Don't panic, brain, you'll make it worse. See, look, it says call NHS Monkeys. Do it." So I did. Caring and engaging as ever. "Well does it feel like someone's sat on your chest or not!?". I DON'T KNOW! NO ONE EVER HAS!

This isn't the first time it's happened in the last four months or so, but it hasn't lasted more than a morning or evening, this is heading on for twenty-four hours and isn't getting any better.

I'd like to blame stress and sue work, but I'm leaving on Wednesday, so not really time for that. Plus, I'll be late in tomorrow after my gazillion days off, post-doctor trip, assuming the chest is no better in, ooh, three hours.

This leaves my other suspicious causes as cigarette smoke, and animal fur. They're the only things I think I've been around all weekend. My instinct is the smoke, if I remember leaving Row's last month rightly...

Feckity.

Well, can't hang around here wheezing like an age'd basset hound all night - I think I'll go reset my alarm for 8am and try to sleep propped up on four pillows. Fun.

I have had a marvellous weekend.

It was lovely to see folks again and I miss them already!

Chez Gay is very welcoming, and, more importantly, has a very large supply of wine and crisps. It also houses two of the soppiest eejits I've ever met...and their dogs

I survived the flights! The first one was traumatic, after my necklace set off the beep-beep machine. Being searched by a bull-dyke at Manchester airport and having my bag taken away from me for inspection by someone who looked like he wanted to plant something in it himself was not an exciting start. Choosing a seat by the window was also an error as you are able to see yourself leave the ground. I am terrified of leaving the ground. I spent the next hour yelping and squeezing my bottle of water everytime the plane jolted a bit. Which it did. A lot. It was nice to arrive to very big hugs, a packet of crisps and a meeting sign that said "Hamster McFunbags" which is definitely going up on the wall of wherever I end up living.

It wasn't great weather so we had to view a fair bit of Galway from the car, but that was fine, as we got to wander around it at night...drinking. The pubs are great, all of them had something that most British pubs lack...what's that word...oh yes - 'atmosphere'. I had far too much to drink this weekend. Too much alcohol, too much food, and definitely too much ice cream for one who does not respond well to dairy...but that Oreo cookie milkshake was sooooooo good!

And then suddenly Rampage turned up on bus, got ID'd to get in the pub, groaned in ecstasy over a pint of Guinness, bit Kelly, threw a bottle of beer against the wall at Chez Gay because he was losing at cards, and then left on another bus.

Sunday night we saw a band in a very sexy pub. I think it was a very old church. The massive organ was a clue, plus the fact that the toilets were confessional booths. I pissed in a confessional. Winner. The band were very good. I was very tired - I know Kelly was too, because she stopped talking - but as soon as we left I realised I was also very, very drunk. For this reason it was important to eat chicken, and then for pudding have an ice cream and cheeseburger. At the same time. I farted and burped all the way back to the car, fell asleep, I don't remember going to bed, and then it was 9.37am this morning, and I had less than an hour before I had to leave for the airport, and this fact hurt my head.

Not nice saying bye bye but will see them soon I hope plus Landers has plans - watch his space.

The flight back was better as I plonked myself in an aisle seat and refused to move up to the middle one even when asked. I didn't give a shit that a father and son had to be split up, the kid looked about 14, which is old enough to sit on your own, and I'm terrifed of the windows, so there.

Plus, all the better to perve at the arses of the cabin crew.

Fell onto train at airport, fell off it, ate Burger King things. No trains to Hull were listed on the board thing which sent me into a panic so I went to ask. The guy in front of me was Irish, and after being informed of his train time, he exclaimed "Over an hour!? Oh that's great actually, I've got time for a shite!". I found this deleriously hilarious.

Fell onto another train, and despite my good intentions I slept and DEFINITELY snored, because I could hear myself. Fell off train, fell into taxi, quite literally fell out of taxi, fell into house, fell into pyjamas, and here I am, on my bed, in denial about work tomorrow, and craving Sultana Bran.

I'm knackered.

Good times.

I'm in my dressing gown with a towel on my head, but my train isn't until half 10, so that's ok. I decided to take one last look in my (too heavy - whoops - what will they do?) bag, and discovered I had not packed a single pair of socks.

This has now been rectified.

Do face wipes count as liquids?

Whoever said yesterday that I would forget to wax my eyebrows - you were correct. I can't do it now as I've just had a shower (R E D N E S S!) so, I will have to take tweezers and do them there. Are tweezers classed as a WMD for plane purposes? Probably.

Toothbrush, toothbrush, toothbrush. If I keep saying it, I won't forget it!

My dairy-hating body is cross with me for giving it custard at half 9 last night. I wish it would learn that I'm not going to stop giving it custard. Or cheese. Or milk. I like these things! Except now I'm having plane-poo-panic. Eugh.

BOOK! I need to take a book. Oh balls, it will NOT fit in my bag! BALLS! I need it!

No book.

I should probably go and do my hair.

Adieu an' all that

I'm PACKED! Passport, funny money, little bottles of shampoo, EVERYTHING!

I'm slightly concerned that my bag is too large and heavy for cabin luggage, but BALLS to checking it in. If they moan, I shall simply don all of my clothing. In your face, plane-wench.

I don't have very practical clothes in the bag. I hope I shan't be expected to get muddy.

I have been informed it is Galway Pride this weekend. This delights and intrigues me. Lincolnshire Pride was cancelled this year...quelle surprise.

I am looking forward to seeing Rampage and RunDontWalk again after so long

I am trying not to think about the vast quantities of public transport and flying tin cans involved in getting there.

I should also probably tell someone I'm going...*rings home*...

Thank you for your help with my sister's query - see previous post. I have informed her.

Hasidic? They were wankers

Righto, dear.

Right. You might know. Yesterday, saw these little rabbi lookin dudes who had shaved heads, with long bits of hair both sides of their face and a little hat on. What were they?!

The poor child is quite upset. If anyone knows, please tell me, so that I can stop her talking at me.

Off to purchase Les Euros now. Il pleut! Merde.

I function better with lists. Even if I don't manage to do everything on them, at least I can then berate myself for being a lazy, incompetant shit, rather than just ignore the fact that, yes, things needed doing, but with the lack of written documentary evidence, no one can possibly blame me for forgetting to do them.

You'd think after that introduction that my list for the day was a record of my final acts, things to do before I die, etc and the like. No.

Here is my list, scrawled moments ago on the back of a reciept (of course):

Move off bed.
Shower?
Sandwich Cereal.
Sandwich.
GET DRESSED.
Town - get Euros, sandwich bags, white hoody and trainers.
Home. PACK. Pack pack pack!
Passport?!
Frigging train times.
Wax eyebrows.
Have you packed? No. Pack.

Soon, I will achieve item 1 on this list.

Soon.

1. Are you married or single?

I am single. I am STILL single. SINGLE. Single.

2. Do you have brothers and sisters?

One sister.

3. Are they older or younger than you?

Four years younger.

4. Have you ever met a famous person?

I know I have. Definitely have. I have no idea who they were.

5. What countries have you visited?

Not many. Ireland, France, the Canaries and Balaerics on family holidays. Oh, and Scotland. It counts! They have £1 notes! Funny money!

6. What do you do on Sundays?

I sleep until 11am-12pm. I probably have a wank at some point, if I can be bothered. I eat 3 scrambled eggs and toast, maybe some bacon, always BBQ sauce. I might shower. I might dress. I might do some washing. I might leave the flat. The only certain thing is the eggs.

7. What kind of people do you not like?

People who make me feel uncomfortable for no good reason.

8. Who has had the most influence in your life?

Probably a teacher. Actually, that's a lie. Parents have been very influencing but not in a wholly positive way.

9. Would you like to be famous?

Only for something credible and obscure.

10. How many different towns or cities have you lived in?

Not many. Grimsby, Huddersfield and Hull.

11. Which do you prefer, sunrises or sunsets?

Sunset. Sunrise would imply I am awake early. No.

12. What was the last book you read?

The new Mil Millington one, Instructions For Living Someone Else's Life. Now I'm reading Margaret Attwood's Alias Grace, because I needed to be able to justify sitting in a coffee shop for an hour whilst waiting for some photos to develop, so I went to buy a book first.

13. What's your favorite food?

I do love curry. And Mexican. Anything hot and spicy. And roast potatoes.

14. Do you live in a house or an apartment/flat or other?

Flat at the moment. Parents' bungalow as from 29th August. God knows after that.

15. How tall are you?

5ft 5" or 6", I'm really not sure. Average, as usual.

16. What are your hobbies?

Fish, pets, reading scandalous Victorian tomes, blogging, chocolate.

17. What's something you do well?

Lie. Terrible isn't it? It doesn't mean I do it often though. When I do, it's very smooth. It comes from growing up with a mother who just doesn't want to know the truth even if she asks for it.

18. Which sports do you like to watch/play?

I don't do any sport. I like to watch equestrianism, gymnastics and figure skating.

19. Are you a 'morning' or 'night' person?

Context please! I would say night. Or v early morning

20. What is your motto?

Oh, balls to this.

I have loads to talk about. Really, there is so much in my head, that I probably should be writing it down for the sake of my sanity.

I feel very disconnected from blogging at the moment. Not the people here - just the place, the act.

Maybe I'll change my mind tomorrow

Maybe I'll just dip in as and when I want to - or have to.

Of course I realise I am writing and posting something about not wanting to write or post anything. Nature of the beast, innit.

...that since I got home from my brilliant weekend my parents have done everything they could possibly do to make me feel like I am nothing but a gross inconvenience in their lives.

I am "lazy", I am "unorganised", I am "useless", I am "stupid", I "never do anything", I'm "bone idle", and - my personal favourite, the one thrown at me the most often - I am "ignorant".

I am "ignorant" tonight because I have decided to sit in my bedroom watching videos of Muse at V on youtube, not sit with them. Never mind that for the past twenty years or so it has been made perfectly clear to both my sister and I that we aren't really welcome in the living room past 7pm, due to our tendancy to try and make conversation, interrupting Emmerdale/Corrie/A Touch of Frost/Holidays From Hell. They are not interested in what I have been up to this weekend, and nor would they care to know.

I am sat in my room because I am tired - exhausted - which makes me irritable. I am also throughly depressed at having had to come home at all. I am therefore being downright considerate by not leaving my room and bothering them. Also, after 3 days and nights of trudging through mud and sleeping on the ground, my tailbone is screaming, and I'm only just stopping myself from screaming along with it. I have to lay on my bed, I couldn't sit in a chair if I wanted to.

But because I am sat in my room in Grimsby and not worrying about what to do with a fish tank and dressing table in Hull, like Dad is right now, I am ignorant. I don't quite understand how inconvenient all this moving is. Apparently.

I am fed up of being called ignorant by two of the most willfully ignorant people you could ever meet. If I am, it is because I have been brought up in an unhealthily ignorant household.

And that is exactly what I told Dad a few minutes ago.

Which went down well.

Now I am "sarcastic" and "a nasty piece of work".

Which is exactly the reason I have been sat in my room not bothering them.

Of course, I wait for them to leave before I burst into tears, else that brings out the "drama queen" and "over-sensitive" remarks.

As predicted, V Festival was awesomeness. Lots of mud and fun.

I will talk more later (you lucky things), but for now...

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...............

Fail.

I can't breathe.

I haven't exactly been enthusiastic about this whole packing malarky, as ye know.

Twenty minutes ago, however, I got out of bed, and started on a cupboard that mainy contained bed sheets (all in need of washing - I couldn't be bothered to do it, so just put them back, and likely bought more), bags of winter clothes/shoes, bags of bags, etc.

It also contained, squeezed in right at the back, two carrier bag's of Steph's clothes, that were folded up and bagged for me just under two years ago and haven't been unpacked since. Carried to different addresses, yes - addressed, no.

So I just did it.

I now have a bag of clothes for the charity shop, and a bag of clothes to put in the bin. I also put a few momento things in there too, that years ago I had wept over the thought of parting with like they were physically her.

I do have another small pile. This consists of what were her favourite t shirts, a bangle from her cousin in Brazil, her favourite boxers, and one or two other bits. I was going to keep these. But instead, after this weekend is out of the way, I'm going to text her to ask for her new address, and send her them.

It was tricky. Things did still smell of her. There were a few long black hairs. Picking everything up provoked a mental image. Blue dressing gown - just out the shower, wanting a hug. Black fleecy trousers - squealing with happiness after changing into them after a very long, cold and wet journey to see me in December. Many, many things, and many images. Only a few winces.

I still haven't done anything with the boxes of cards and presents. They're still at the bottom of the stairs in the bin liner they were brought round in. I think I'll just take them home for now.

But I won't be taking any of her other stuff home, which, after two years, is probably long overdue.

I make no apology for it though. I still miss her. But thank God she's fading.

So if Dad gives me any grief for being decidedly not ready when he gets here tomorrow, I might tell him what I did manage to do - and shut him up with the revulsion of having to remember she ever existed in my life. Ho hum. Can't win them all.

Back to bed.

I didn't want to do it, but the alternative is getting upset that I can't get my DVDs packed symmetrically in the box. Soon as I've done this I'll put a third load of washing that will never be dry by tomorrow on, I promise.

1. Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex?
There was that one time... Yes. Many times.

2. How often do you wank?
Depends what mood I'm in. Probably fairly often when compared to all the people that have lied when answering this and said "Rarely". It's something to do on a boring Sunday isn't it?

3. Where do you wish you were right now?
I wish I was feeling settled somewhere.

4. Were you in love with the first person you slept with?
No.

5. Do you have any guilt inside of you?
It has its own gland.

6. Have you ever wished anyone dead, however brief?
Yes, I'm afraid so, but not truly meaning it.

7. Assuming you HAD to be, would you rather be a colour, smell or sound?
I would be a shade of green.

8. How and when do you imagine you are going to die?
I think it will be of horrible unnatural causes. I think I'll be hit by a car or something.

9. Do you think love is forever?
No, just contentment and habit.

10. What is your worst fear for your future?
Being really alone, especially after my parents are no longer around.

11. Do you LOVE anything about yourself? If so, what is it?
No, I don't LOVE anything about myself. I LIKE some parts and LOATHE many parts.

12. Would you lie if you KNEW you could never get caught?
Yes, I'm a very good liar. Not something to be proud of but it has its uses.

13. Could you have sex knowing someone could hear you?
They have done. Mother. She knocked on the wall and threw up for two weeks. I'm sure other people have but I don't really care, given what I have heard myself.

14. What, if anything, do you do to make people do what you want?
Whine.

15. How many times, if any, have you lied answering these questions?
Sixteen.

Packing Started -|------------------- Packing Complete

Dad is picking me up at 10am tomorrow.

Doom.

*sob*

Obviously, it's pissing it down with rain. Because it's the 12th August. Obviously.

And obviously it is wholly neccessary for taxi drivers to be wankers at all times.

So obviously - OBVIOUSLY - when I was walking down a very quiet road near work, it was wholly neccessary for the only car driving down the street to be a taxi and for the driver to be a wanker and for the wanker to AIM HIS CAR into the MASSIVE PUDDLE BY THE KERB.

And then LAUGH.

I stuck my finger up at him and bellowed that I'd see him next Tuesday. Ahem. Ladylike.

I am soaked. I am wearing jeans. The jeans are cold. They will not dry.

I am miserable now. I want a hug.

...Firstly, some apologies:

Lovely Subz, who bore my drunken text message onslaught with bravery, patience and dignity. I have read my sent messages with interest today. Keeee-rist.

I also extend text apologies to my sister, and to my ex-flatmate. And B. And my mother. Arg.

Anyhoo!

I may do a private post later - when I feel less like DOOM - but suffice to say for now that I had a good night last night. There was much laughter and much wine. MUCH wine. And vodka. Vodkas. Also serious talks, and not so serious talks. Talks about Dracula, war, cats, Koi, Muse, Hull's inbred gay scene, fishfinger sandwiches, Innocent vs Tropicana, students, and Gordon Ramsey. I'm sure there was more, but...alkymafrol. And my boobs were REALLY drunk. Bad boobs!

Was a good night.

But has left me with 'leaving Hull' wibbles.

Sigh. My poor head cannot cope with this right now. It needs painkillers, an entire carton of smoothie, scrambled egg, and a shit load of toast. And Super Hans. Did I ever tell you all he is beautiful? He is. I love him. I'm still sooooo drunk.

Tweny past two. Time to get dressed. Off to see SeX Files later. Mmm. Anderson.

Wavey wave for now.

1. Who was the last person to call you?
Old-Nick.

2. Where was your default picture taken?
I presume my picture over *there* - that was on my bed at Home Home last August, day after I had my nose pierced, playing with camera settings to try and hide the red. It wasn't posed at all, but I liked it.

3. What's your middle name?
Joyce Eggletina.

4. Your current relationship status?
Single

5. Does your crush like you back?
They never do, it's tradition.

6. What is your current mood?
Pissed off with the weather. Worried about a few little things. Slovenly.

7. What are you doing this weekend?
Had planned shoping today. Want new shoes, new tops, new knickers. However, it is raining and blowing a gale, and I've just done my hair for going out tonight. Bah! I think instead I will tidy my room up, move a mattress, hoover 2 gerbils cages, and drink smoothie. Tomorrow I will do washing.

8. What color shirt are you wearing?
Greenish.

9. Ever been in love?
Yes thank you.

10. If you could go back in time and change something, would you?
There are things I would like to change, but I wouldn't, because I don't know if they would be the right things to change. I would've gone to a different university, I think.

11. Have a crazy side?
I have a drunk side, is that the same thing?

12. Ever had a near death experience?
I could've drowned in a pool in Majorca when I was 7. But I didn't.

13. Something you do a lot?
Drink. Text people. Use every glass in the house until they're all dirty and leave them on the windowsill in my bedroom and wonder where all the glasses are.

14. Angry at anyone?
Mildly. Mainly just me.

15. Who can you tell anything to?
Vicky. And more than a few folk on here.

16. Name someone with the same birthday as you?
Bono, Sid Vicious and Fred Astaire. I didn't look that up, I'm just that good at remembering shite.

17. When was the last time you cried?
Watching a documentary on a 14 year old teenage mum. I was a bit tipsy.

18. Who would you do anything for?
I always think there is one person but as time goes by I realise that I probably wouldn't. Maybe my sister, then. Although I have already told her she's never having a kidney for being such an evil cow as a teenager.

19. If you could have one super power what would it be?
Teleportation.

20. What's the first thing you notice about the opposite/same sex?
Eyes.

21. What do you usually order from starbucks?
Peppermint mocha. I only really go at Christmas really, when these are on the menu as standard and I don't have to look a fool asking for it in July.

22. What's your biggest secret?
I'm actually a mermaid.

23. Favorite colour?
Green.

24. Favorite TV show?
It changes, constantly. Currently The Tudors. Ever - probably Peep Show.

25. Do you still watch kiddy movies or tv shows?
Not unless it could be described as retro or classic. New stuff terrifies me. With the sole exception of Pocoyo, which I think should have its own channel.

26. What are you eating or drinking at the moment?
A chocolate digestive and pink juice.

27. Do you speak any other language?
Nein.

28. Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?
Oh will you please LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T KNOW!

29. Describe your life in one word, what would it be?
Undiagnosed

30. Have you ever kissed in the rain?
Yes =)

31. Ever kissed on the beach?
No.

32. What are you thinking about right now?
The kiss in the rain.

33. What should you be doing?
Tidying up. Putting some washing on. Getting a grip. Anything but watching badminton. Ahh, dammit, gymnastics are on now...and then dressage...doom.

34. What was the last film you saw?
I watched Sweeney Todd the other day. The last thing I saw at the cinema was The Dark Knight.

35. What are you listening to?
Sue Barker getting excited about badminton.

36. Do you like working in the garden?
As in...gardening? Let me live somewhere with a garden and I'll tell you. Actually I know the answer would be no. I think I'll be into decking and gravel.

37. Are you on facebook or myspace?
Facebook. MySpace is too glittery, flashing and Americano.

38. Do you act differently around the person you like?
Sometimes.

39.What is your natural hair color?
Brown. BORING.

40. Who was the last person you kissed?
Er... Oh. *Shudder*.

Got home. (Yay.)

Had a nice time napping. (Zzz.)

Cleaned out the goldfish. (Messy.)

Paid Council Tax bill of £1.27. (Hmmm...)

Watched Olympic thing. (Fancy.)

Made vast quantities of chicken madras. (Nom.)

Ate vast quantities of chicken madras. (Groan.)

Washed up eveything from last three days. (Eugh.)

Put pyjamas on. (Aah.)

Poured wine. (Glug...)

Had Gu trifle. (*Heaven*).

Waiting for The Tudors at 9pm. (Fnarr!)

...Licking out Gu pot. (Frantic.)

A good evening so far.

Nobody ruin it, please.

Anyone else watching the highlights of the opening ceremony?

You gotta admit...they got flair, they got style, no bombs...

...everything 2012 will lack, no doubt

I never think I'm bothered about sports events like this but I do like to watch some of it. Swimming and diving, mainly. Makes me smile that we have a 14 year old on our diving team. Aww. Bless.

I prefer the winter sports, far more fun. More opportunities for slicing of fingers with ice-blades, and the like.

I am feeling distinctly drizzled on and this has set my mood for the day really.

I'm also very hungry, and, following 10am meeting, I might have to go get bread, sausages and sachets of the red stuff.

I'm not a very happy bunny at the moment. For various reasons. I feel like I'm being made to feel very small. Belittled, scorned and laughed at. It's leaving me feeling very hurt, confused, irritated, and, quite frankly, pissed off.

Just don't fuck with me today.

As I type I am watching 5 members of the office wave umbrellas about.

We have some sky lights that are very nifty. When it is a certain temperature in the office, they open. When it is cold, they close. When they're open, if it rains, they close.

In theory.

The windows were closed. The heavens opened. Like, really opened. Down came the rain...up went the windows.

Well isn't that useful?

Three desks are now drenched, and belatedly covered with umbrellas and bubble wrap.

The best part of the whole affair was when the windows closed again, while it was still raining. Bit late now, you buggers.

I of course find it hilarious, because I am dry.

Also, it's so dark outside that the night-time security lights have come on.

Yet another marvellous technology FAIL.

The realisation that I have 7 days in order to do about 2 months worth of work seemed to affect me somehow. I did ten contract letter thingies. I can therefore conclude that panic does increase productivity, tenfold in fact. Ho ho.

Also determined not to be lazy this evening. Tea, then tidying. I will!

Here's me thinking I have 3 weeks til I leave Hull, loads of time to do everything.

I actually only have SEVEN WORKING DAYS LEFT.

CRAP!

CRAAAAAAP!

See you soon

(Nicking AJ's idea, obv)

I have LOADS OF WORK TO DO. I seriously have a gargantuan amount of things to do. Like, a whole summer's worth of work to do. In two weeks. Less, actually.

Craaaaap!

Therefore I am trying to break it down into manageable chunks.

These chunks MAY need doing by other people, after I've gone.

For now, my to-do list today consists of:

Waiting for someone to email me back about something.

Writing on one of the two cards I bought for mum, 'just because'. (One says No cooking, no dishes. Today I'm doing nothing! and the other says Make mummy a cuppa before she loses it. Both regular direct quotes from mother.)

Attempting to re-write a rota that nobody is ever happy with. Is like Sudoku with names. All got to be on 3 times! Unless you can only be on twice! BLAH BLAH BLAH! Don't care, I'm going!

Glancing around looking confused.

Making a countdown ticker for my last day.

I think that's enough for one day...

...advert:

New Heinz Spread and Bake. Spread something good.

SNORT! Sauce akimbo.

I am in a spectacular state of meh this evening.

I wanted to get in from work, have tea, do the pots, and tidy the flat a bit. I want to move a few bits of furniture around - I'm only here for another couple of weeks, I know, but I can make it a bit better in the mean time. I also wanted to work on CV a bit. (Apparently the buzz word for CVs at the moment is 'panache'. But that just makes me think of ganache. That's not productive.)

All I've managed is tea, pots, cleaning out crazy Lucy (a g a i n), 2 glasses of wine, and a couple of hours of laying on my bed in the dark.

I still haven't touched the bag of Steph's stuff that's sat at the bottom of the stairs. I can't be arsed with it. I'm too tired to cry over something that happened two years ago. Get over it, freak.

My blisters still hurt. Sting sting. I wore different shoes that I thought would be comfier...but now I just have new blisters over the old ones. Flip flops tomorrow, even if it's still raining. I'd rather have wet feet than crippled for another day. Actually, I'd rather have them in a foot bath, and then have a lovely foot rub. Alas for singledom.

We went out for lunch at work because it was someone else's last day. My old line manager asked me what I would like to do on my last day and I almost burst into tears. I'm so happy to be leaving the job that I've been trying to ignore the fact that I do have friends at work that I'll be leaving too. I will be a blubbering mess on the 27th. I'm secretly debating not going in at all.

I'd love to have an off switch. Just for emotional bollocks. Why can some people sail along quite happily and I have to be so sensitive about everything and make it personal?

And why isn't this steroid cream getting rid of my iodine rash? It's fucking minging, I've had enough.

Final straw for the evening. I'm off to have a legitimate cry about things.

Tickets for V arrived this morning

I must thank the postman for waking me up at 8.17am to sign for them, else I would have been even later for work than I was.

Although I do apologise to him for forgetting that I was stark bollock naked under my dressing gown and that it doesn't really close at the top.

Top o' the mornin' to ya, postie.

I have just said bye bye to my very, very good friend V who is moving back home to Runcorn tonight after finishing her social work degree here. I'm going to miss her so, so much. At least I'm moving to her neck of the woods else I'd probably never see her, which would be a shame.

She took my gerbils with her too, because hers died recently and she misses it, and because I'm not allowed to take them home - too messy and taily for mother. Miss them too already. So cute.

When she turned up she brought with her the sackful of stuff I gave her to look after last year. Everything Steph ever got me, every photo, card, present...I couldn't have it near me. It's now in a black bin liner at the bottom of my stairs. I don't know what to do with it. I don't think I can look at it, and I can't get rid of it.

Time to order a very large Chinese takeaway and drink wine, because if I don't, I'm going to start crying really, really hard.

*Deep breaths*.

I don't do much, but I am very good at doing very little. So, it balances out.

I have only been up about eight hours, so, naturally, I'm exhausted by my day. It has included:

Watching Sweeney Todd.
Putting away my clothes and re-finding my carpet (and finding £1!).
Cleaning out the minnows, as they seemed to be losing the ability to stay afloat.
Writing the 'headings' on my CV. Will actually write it...eventually.
Throwing away a baking tray instead of washing it. (Baked on pastry. Understandable, yes?)
Eating too much pasta that wasn't even very nice.
Shower.
Miss Marple.

Which brings us up to date, apart from:

Wine. Opening...now.

Shattered. Early night for me!

I had intended on packing away my CDs and books, cleaning out the gerbils and Lucy, changing my sheets, finishing CV, applying for one job, and washing all my knickers.

There simply aren't enough hours in the day.

It's 13:14.

I'm still in bed.

I've officially missed out on breakfast

Sigh.

I hate writing CVs.

I've successfully managed to avoid doing it for just over two years now, but I know I have to get on with it.

However, it has taken me the best part of an hour to write my name and address.

Well, there are just so many formatting options, and it's an important bit, ya name.

Obviously, I will then follow with the Education part...and then anything else factual...like the other headings...anything to avoid actually writing job descriptions, skills, ME, yawn yawn.

"Interests: Goldfish, Hans, Casillero del Diablo Cab-Sauv, and Gu."

I'm so bloody lazy. Such a procrastinator.

Today I had planned to at least pick all my clothes up off the floor. I can't even find a clean BRA. I also wanted to carry on shifting the furniture around, tidy up the kitchen, clean out Lucy (a g a i n)...there was something else...oh yes. Shower.

However, have only managed the following:

Changed nose stud back to green stoned one.
Moved floor-clothes away from edge of bed so that I can get on and off it easier.
Wiped the scum off the draining board.
Eaten eggs.
Eaten biscuits.
Eaten two chicken en croute things, with ham and cheese (nutritious).
Eaten ice cream.
Drank a shit load of Vimto.
Napped.
Taken photos of blisters.
Watched Who Dares Sings!
Now mourning that hour of televised karaoke as time I will never have back to do something more useful, like...well, wanking or something.

Fuck.

Bridget Jones' Diary just started.

*reaches for corkscrew and remote*

Ahh. Big Brother.

...Oh yeah. CV. Oh well. I'll do it tomorrow.

My last faithful pair of comfy black shoes died. My foot went right through the sole onto the street. It was definitely time to get rid.

On Wednesday night, I bought the following ridiculously cute pair of shoes:

They are leather, they are Clarks, they are so incredibly bouncy and comfy on the sole that I almost cried with glee. They have a button! I hugged them all the way to the till, and all the way home.

The following morning, I put on said slippers of lovliness and commenced my 15 minute walk to work. Five minutes in, they were rubbing a little bit, but, having freaky shaped feet, I'm used to that. At work, however, I collapsed into my chair in near tears, and investigated my feet.

Shredded.

It is has been two days, and I still can't wear shoes. Even the flip flops I resorted to at work were painful. My trousers flapping on my ankles was painful. Even blisters plasters are painful.

 

Ming. MING!

...I will not be returning the shoes. Will train feet.

To counteract the ming, here is something beautiful - Super Hans sleeping with his back feet tucked up to his nose:

I no longer feel that I can justifiably call them baby feesh. They are, after all, almost 8 months old, and are getting huge - comparatively speaking - they are of course still very tiny fish.

I am SO PROUD of myself for growing these things. You really have no idea how hard it is unless you've done it. I have a 20% survival rate from my first batch of unplanned goldfish eggs from mutt parents. That's brilliant. Some people are happy to get 5%. They're such delicate things. I do still have a few runts (Fuzzzy) which are about a tenth of the size of the biggest one (FishBob) but they're feeding still so I'll let them be.

They're probably all going to have to go in the same pond I put their parents in a few weeks ago, a whole year earlier than I'd like. Has to be in summer, you see. I reckon a few will get eaten, a few will snuff it, and a few will thrive. Nature, innit.

Plus I can't very well take 20 goldfish to Manchester.

Anyway. New video of them. Exceptionally crap quality, as always (plus fish have an annoying habit of constant movement).

30 seconds in, camera stays on Subfish for a wee while - very pale pink with one very pink cheek and a black tail.

After that, about 40 seconds in, a smaller one with a black patch near it's tail swims zig-zag down the front of the tank. That's Old-Fish. Copping an eyeful

There are others I could point out, but to you, they'll all look the same. Not to me they don't