gibbon-arsed ramblings of a hopeless underachiever
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| bandhag gibbon-arsed ramblings of a hopeless underachiever |
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Monday, July 28, 2003 Yes I know. I know, I know, I know. I have many excuses - all of them true, but all of them poor. Mostly, they revolve around work and moving, a little about socialising and galivanting (sp?). I'm still no more unpacked than I was the day I moved in here - worse, in fact, I've got more crap lying around the place, where I've had to take things out of boxes to use them, and never got around to putting them in a 'proper' place. Gah. And I'm going to have to go away again, because I've got shitloads of work to do before the end of the week. Soon, I promise, I will write something interesting. In the meantime, somebody tell me how that boring sack of bigotry managed to win Big Brother? Hopefully this is an end to reality tv, and I will get my life back. posted by bandhag | 7/28/2003 09:49:00 PM Thursday, July 17, 2003 ha ha. It's raining. Everyone likes to be inside now, with me and my housebound cat and the non-cabled-up-but-just-about-able-to-get-a-picture-on-terrestrial TV, don't they, hmmm? Oh yes. Ha. Ha ha. [skulks away into the night, rubbing hands together with glee] posted by bandhag | 7/17/2003 05:52:00 PM Tuesday, July 15, 2003 Yes, it was a very loooong comedown. Followed by moving, which sucked all the words out of my head and replaced them with manure and sweat. I. Fucking. Hate. Moving. Not least because this time, my computer is broken, so this is brought to you from the pc at work. Ummmm, naughty naughty. Cat is confined to bedroom until she gets enough of the scent of the new place not to flee for the hills the minute she gets outside. This has happened several times now, seeing as she's fairly old-ish (middle aged, anyway) and I'm like some kinda nomad, the number of times I've moved. I always somehow forget how utterly not-fun it is. She clings; she meows; she wakes up at 4 a.m. to destroy things; she scratches the door in an attempt to get out of the room/house/country, approximately once every 30 seconds. This all gets worse and worse the longer it goes on for, and it has to go on for 2-3 weeks. Meanwhile, I'm stuck inside on the hottest sodding week all year (seems like), with all the windows and doors closed and a lovely tree-filled communal garden outside, goading me. Bah. All new things are a learning experience, and here's what I've learned so far: - doesn't matter what time I bump into a particular one of my housemates, he will always be drunk - boys don't mind having showers that have a thick layer of mould and mildew round the bottom - it's all very well living with boys who are right-on but it does mean they'd rather die than oppress you by offering you any help whatsoever with your extremely heavy boxes/furniture/etc. - it only takes 15/20 mins to walk back to my new house (as opposed to a 45 minute bus journey home to the old one - toot toot!) - futon mattresses are a lot heavier than they look. Right, I should stop skiving and get back to it, I suppose. More soon when normal service has been restored. posted by bandhag | 7/15/2003 06:04:00 PM Thursday, July 03, 2003 urgh. Too tired and miserable to tell you all about Glasto, plus I don't want to rub it in. I will talk about some things, though. I had got along to the ripe old age of 28-and-a-bit without going to Glastonbury and without trying what our lovely friend Mr Galligan would call macaroons. How the hell did that happen? Both these things have now been rectified. And in both cases, I'm almost glad I don't come across them every day, otherwise I'd probably end up with some serious problems. As it was, during the course of the weekend I ended up in the med tent having passed out and turned blue (nothing to do with the macaroons); lost my glasses; lost my sunglasses; fell face-first into a clump of thorn bushes for no discernable reason, gashing my hand and neck (but not too badly); acquired some appalling sunburn that went brown immediately but is now peeling, so that I have delightful pink splodges all over my forehead and nose. And yet I would rank it as possibly the best 5 days of my life, ever. And that's it, unless you want more. I won't bang on about it. I've been getting more and more miserable each day since I got back, which kind of sucks. I suppose it's just thrown into sharp relief quite how rubbish I've been thus far at making my life fit the kind of person I am and things I believe in. Still, there's time to change. Right?... posted by bandhag | 7/03/2003 10:27:00 PM Tuesday, July 01, 2003 I got back from Glastonbury yesterday. I didn't tell you I was going, did I? Sorry. It was my first one. There were many firsts this weekend. I will tell you all about it later on. Right now, I have to go to work and for the first time since the time my mum and dad forced me to go to work the morning after my first ridiculous teenage drinking bout (featuring an entire bottle of bacardi, a bottle of vodka and a half of gin), figuring it was the best punishment they could give me, the idea of going to work has made me actually cry. Send me hugs across the intermaweb, I'll be back later. posted by bandhag | 7/01/2003 08:07:00 AM |
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