2003-09-20 9:58 p.m.
Yes I know I've already updated today but I'm stressed out and panicky and don't know what to do with myself. I should finish that book I still need to read for creative writing, but sitting here panicking and demolishing an entire packet of chocolate digestives seems more appealing. I've suddenly got an urge to comfort eat and I never comfort eat.
After visiting work and my grandma this afternoon I came away £280 richer than expected, which is nice. Holiday pay rocks, especially when you have no idea you're entitled to any more. There was also a £10 note inside a card from a whip round they had in the pub. Now is it just me or does it seem like too much of a coincidence that the money from the whip round came to exactly a tenner? I've got a feeling there should have been a bit more, but it doesn't matter because I've ripped them off for £36 anyway, by not owning up to them having overpaid me. And to be fair they gave me a bottle of wine as a leaving present, but I'll have to actually make a friend before I can open it because it's sparkling and has to be drunk all in one go.
I've also been given a powerpuff girls bin, flask and vest and knickers set by Claire, all of which I'm very pleased with. I have to wear a bra with the vest though, it's quite tight and light coloured so you can see my nipples through it. Christ, with the prices they charge at the Warner Bros store you'd think they'd put a little more thought into designing things, wouldn't you? I'm going to use the bin to store my millions of bottles of toiletries, as they provide me with a bin at uni. When I was drunk I told Claire I'd just hide my uni bin in the wardbrobe, but I think this is a more practical solution. It'll make the place seem more like home, too. So far the only decorative things I've got are the bin and a framed picture of Watson. I really wasn't kidding when I said I'd be taking pictures of him instead of my family.
Anyway, I'm off to the kitchen to consume copious amounts of chocolate biscuits and to spend quality time with the dog.
2003-09-20 10:54 a.m.
Well here we are, my final full day at home before I move away. I spent almost a year dreading this weekend but for the last few months I've been rather looking forward to it, apart from the whole being worried about everyone hating me thing.
People usually say how they're surprised that everything they've accumilated during their lifetime fits into so few boxes, don't they? I'm quite the opposite, I have two and a half boxes and a suitcase so far, and I'm only halfway there. So far I've only packed essentials and havent even thought about which CDs and books and things to take yet. I could probably do with a poster or two, couldn't I? Make the place feel like home. The only one I want to take, however, is twice the size of normal posters and would be impossible to stick up with blue tac (drawing pins are not allowed), so it's staying at home. I suppose you're supposed to have pictures of family and friends, aren't you? Pfft sod that, the only photos I'll be taking with me are of the dog (sad but true). Oh, and a copy of my email from Rick Witter, of course.
The day will be spent dying hair and plucking eyebrows and trying to decide what to wear to make a good first impression. In fact, I feel like I'm going on one big giant night out, only I've been praparing for this for the last few weeks instead of a few hours. I've been thinking about the clothes thing for a couple of weeks now and have finally managed to get it down to a possibility of two outfits. My carebears t shirt looks better but I'd be more comfortable in my brown space raiders t shirt, as I have an intense fear of actually doing anything while wearing my care bears top because it's white, and was pretty expensive. Argh. I suppose I'll have a spare hour or so to decide tomorrow anyway, as I leave at dinner time.
Anyway, my dad has just come as close as he ever will to bollocking me for being on the internet when I should be packing, and seeing as this whole University thing is going to end up leaving him severely out of pocket, I'm not going to argue.
Wish me luck, and don't you lot go having too good a time without me (yes I'm an incredible sad bastard and I need to gt out more).
2003-09-19 3:34 p.m.
Things to worry about between now and Sunday.
I might hate everyone I live with.
Everyone I live with might hate me.
I might get bullied, like at school.
They might all be scallies and I might never get to go to any indie goodness 5th Ave like nights with anyone and I'll end up being like an outsider with no friends.
The half bottle of vodka I'm taking might be too much and I might get horribly drunk on the first night and make a fool of myself.
I might not even find anyone to drink with on the first night.
The two meals a week provided for me might not be very healthy and I might have to eat white bread and things and struggle to get my five fruit and veg a day.
People are probably going to mock me for my somewhat obsessive eating habits.
I might end up eating on my own in the canteen all the time.
I might have to share a room with someone and they've just not mentioned it to me (unlikely, I know, but it could happen).
I might never be able to figure out how to work the timer on my video.
Hmm, well, getting all of that out was supposed to make me feel better, but it hasn't. In fact I think I've just made things worse.
Oh yes, and I didn't turn up to meet that guy on Wednesday and doubt that he did either. I guess I'll never know.
2003-09-16 10:19 a.m.
Life is a big fat, ugly stinking bastard and I hate it. Seriously, it couldn't be anymore of a bitch if it tried.
You know what it's like when you snog someone in a club, usually you're too drunk to assess their looks properly anyway, and you dont actually spend any time talking to them. I've found that the times I've tried to talk to blokes I've only been dissapointed anyway, when it comes to guys in clubs good looks and a personality to boot is a very rare thing.
It's just my luck that I find one of these rare people less than a week before I'm due to move 40 miles away. Great, just bleeding fantastic.
I wouldn't mind too much, but this guy just made me melt. If he'd have been anymore amazing and had made me laugh anymore than he did I think it might have killed me. He stopped me as I was walking past to insist that he is actually Tim Burgess, changing his mind and insisting on being Rick Witter when I told him of my obsession with him. Meh, I suppose you had to be there.
I gave him my phone number and kind of arranged to meet him on Wednesday, but everyone knows that the chances of ever seeing anyone you meet in a club again are virtually none existant. And even if I did, there's the small matter of me moving 40 miles away in less than a week.
Life's a bitch and I demand that there be an exact clone of the guy living next door to me at Uni.
2003-09-15 3:18 p.m.
I know, I know, it has been an entire week. Finding even slightly interesting things to write about when you do the same thing week in week out is difficult, you know. I go to the same pub to work, talk to the same people, go on the same nights out, spend the same nights in. I quite like my routine though, and I'll be sad to see it go.
I'm sorry to say, however, that the most exciting thing that has happened this week is the discovery that my older brother, not satisfied with eating all of the food in the house (including two tins of hotdogs in one go), has now started stealing my mum's Slim Fast. That's it, he really couldn't sink any lower if he tried. And someone should tell him that that shit doesn't work if you eat ten meals a day with it. I wonder what it's like to have such little control over what you put into your mouth? I hope he cant even walk past a mirror without feeling ashamed, I really do.
Anyway, tonight is supposed to be the 'leaving night out' as Claire keeps referring to it. There are several problems, however: A. Claire reckons she doesn't have much money. However, I've seen right through this for the blatent lie that it is, she's only saying that to get out of paying me back the money I lent her last week. B. Craig hasn't got any money. How you can work full time, still live with your parents, and not have money to go out with I do not know, but there you go. C. I really can't be bothered. I seem incapable of 'light' nights out, and usually realise I've gone too far when I'm still sat up drinking at 5am. All I keep thinking about is that killer hangover tomorrow, and needless to say it is putting me off just a little.
Ah well, it's my last chance so I suppose I should. I'll try and keep it to a small civalised gathering in Baa Bar, but I know that deep down I'll end up in 5th Ave, and therefore will end up still sat up at 5 tomorrow morning. Someone pass the paracetamol, please.
embryo-
carcass
Latest entry