my stuff
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stop me, oh oh oh stop me, stop me if you think that you've heard this one before...
I’ve been thinking (everybody take cover). I’ve been kind of disappointed with my personal D-Land experience recently as you know. When I started it up I thought it would be a brilliant and exciting new way to record my life as it happens and be able to look back over the years and see how I’ve grown, how I’ve changed as a person and how I’ve evolved from young adult to young-ish adult to adult-adult- and beyond.
The problem is – and this isn’t D-Land’s fault – that I’m not an evolving kind of girl. My life doesn’t change from one thing to another. I am not a changer it would appear. And that’s kind of shocking to me, being that I’ve always thought I was some kind of amazing person who leaps from one situation to another with a smile on her face and determination in her heart and all that kind of thing.
Some people would be glad to have as little change in their life as I do – and I am glad of that fact when change = hellish things. When change = exciting things + new shoes + holidays + fun times, well I’m up for a bit of that to be honest, but nope. Here I sit. Like Kermit’s little nephew half way up the stairs. And that’s that.
So, in actual fact – reading back over my diary in years to come is going to be the same as reading over my diary from when I was a teenager (only with much less snogging minging boys and less moaning about homework) which comes as a bit of a surprise being that I’m 31 and married.
My life is about to change soon (I hope) when wee Bambino comes along, but that’s still at least a year away minimum – we’ve got to start shagging with intent first and we’ve both too terrified to have the ‘is this the last box of johnnies we’re going to buy’ chat. So in the meantime, I’m going to take Bandito’s view on life and try to enjoy what I have before it turns upside down.
Something tells me if I was more used to change I wouldn’t be as shit scared about having a baby as I am.
So, without further ado – onto the tale of gruesomeness that was my weekend and don’t worry – I’ve not just repeated an entry from last year, it just all sounds uncannily familiar…
In the spirit of ‘living it up while I can’ we went to a friends birthday party on Saturday. We were all supposed to turn up at 4pm but we thought we’d be fashionably late and turn up at 5pm. We were the first to arrive. The next people turned up at 6.30pm. By that time I’d had 3 strawberry daiquiris and a mojito and was most definitely on this side of being pissed.
More and more people turned up – all of whom I spoke to with great big arm gestures and well meant slurred words and someone must have given me some kind of narc at some point because I remember speaking to a random stranger about how lovely it was that in this ipod/mp3 world, he’d brought his CDs with him in a CD wallet shaped like a hamburger.
And yes it was a hamburger shaped CD wallet. And yes, I REALLY did mean it, I thought it was amazing. ‘How refreshing’ I think I said a few times. So I must’ve been off my tits because even though I am a very positive person I think even I would have found it difficult to be that chuffed about a novelty shaped CD wallet. And I definitely would’ve been stretching it at turning the whole thing into a comment on the state of society today. I then asked him if I could have a nibble of the lettucey stuff and knew I’d gone too far.
After that, there was a club. I am amazed I got in to be honest, but I was with people who were more jakey-tastic than me (I hope) and so maybe I looked quite refreshed and on top of the world. After 6 hours of drinking cocktails and taking cocktails of god only hopes to know what, I don’t see any reason to doubt that do you?
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance.
My friend tried to get me to do my famous ‘robotnic’ dancing on the stage, but thankfully I thought that was a terrible idea and trotted off to the bar for more beer (much needed) where I met a girl from the party who decided to throw the pint of water she was holding all over herself whilst squealing.
See? I told you I wasn’t as bad as some of the people.
After the club there was a chance encounter with a boy from my childhood – seriously, I wasn’t hallucinating. He demanded that he walked me home when he discovered everybody has pissed off and left me there (Bandito, I should mention, left the party at about 11pm due to cough, ahem, feeling under the weather, cough, cough) and as we walked home he told me he’d always been in love with me but knew I was unattainable because he was 3 years younger than me.
He didn’t think it was funny when I told him Bandito was 3 years younger than me.
It was nice to see him though. I’m not sure if I made him feel any better or not, but it was nice to chat about being kids again. At least I think it was.
Then I went back to a party (the original party that I started at – yes, it started at 5pm, then there was a 5 hour intermission while we all went to Optimo and then it started up again) where I was given yet more drugs and booze and forced to take my turn in the (ironic) hip hop dance circle that was already in full swing. Oh dear.
I mean seriously – Scottish people doing hip hop. It really does make the mind boggle.
It was at about 3pm on Sunday afternoon (yes really) that I got the phone call from one of the people I work with down south. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone – particularly because I was only barely clinging onto my voice after all the fags and spliffs and shouting and singing and laughing I’d been doing – but still I answered it. It was at 4.30pm (yes, nearly 24 hours after starting on this merry go-round) that I went into the office to try to salvage what was left of a fucked-up project and it was nearly 5.30pm as I rushed away from the office looking like some kind of walking dead zombie that I realised I really should go home and sort myself out (i.e sleep for at least a year).
However, I had to go back to THAT party and get my house keys that I’d left and I managed a few more beers before Bandito finally came to get me and take me home to bed. If I could have wept I think I would have done it.
And so it is for that precise reason that I say every frigging week that I’m giving up the drugs and I’m giving up the booze and not partying like that anymore.
All I can say is – thank goodness I’ve given up caffeine!
oh - have a look at my new comments section down there - scroll down, way down, further - see the fridge? It works! Feel free to leave me any old random shit you like! xxx
8:35 pm - 31 May 2006
