awesome week
hey! sorry I haven't updated for so long - have hardly been online in the past few weeks, and even when I'm on I'm too busy worrying about how I should update more often to actually update. But anyway, I'll give it a try.
I had a good night on Monday, because it didn't involve any drink, Canadian vomit or motorway driving. I'll come back to those, although I guess you can imagine they make a pretty interesting combination. I seem to recall that after work (during which I was... in the office, I think? Or in the warehouse, I forget. I was definitely in the warehouse for most of the week. It was awesome, after being in the office for x weeks. Lots of good, harmless fun. And poor singing) I went to the Plough and Harrow with Alex - the P & H is where Andy works, which is the only reason we went there, because it's a shit pub (but try telling him that) - and we had some decent food, and a good chat.
Alex is sort of tricky to pin down, so it was nice to have a laugh with him. Funnily, his girlfriend lives about fifteen seconds from where my sister has just bought a new house, in a different part of Sutton. Anyway, where was I? Turned out Alex couldn't come with us to Essex on the weekend (i.e. yesterday and today), because he had made other plans because he is a SILLY PERSON frankly but, y'know, his loss. So we had a bit of a chinwag and he went off to see Lauren because he hadn't seen her for twenty minutes, and I came home because Andy was working until close.
I... think I went to the pub with ... Simon that evening? Or I maybe stayed in. I don't remember, really. What I do remember is that Simon just bought a new car, which OH YES that's exactly what happened. Funny how these things come back to me. I started reading a new book of Helen's by Meg Cabot... Teen Idol (layers. think layers) which was terrific, in that predictable way all Meg Cabot books are. Anyway, I was reading that until about half nine, when Simon called round in the aforementioned new car, and we went for a bit of a runaround, up to Tamworth and down the M42 and all sorts of nice things like that. It's a nice car. And it was fun to be a passenger for once, as well. I can't believe how much driving I do. Something like 3000-4000 miles since September, which I guess makes sense considering I go to and from work every day. But still. That's almost like driving across the Atlantic. Er, not really.
Came home and finished that Meg Cabot book, which was pretty, in a word, spiritual. I think that one'll stay with me. Anyway. Let's jump back momentarily to Saturday, on which I went to work at the chippy in the evening, and then went for a pint with Faye afterwards. That was pretty cool, although I'm starting to think there were better days we could've jumped back to. Although it kind of links with Thursday, and it was kind of special because it was the first time Faye and I made plans and she still remember them five days later. You see, Faye has (or at least claims to have) a short-term memory problem, which means that by Tuesday, she can't remember conversations she had on the weekend. Which is sort of trying, to say the least, because she has nearly always made other plans by the time I come to remind her about our terribly special evening at the pub, or a trip to the local phone box, or what have you.
They love Faye at work. Or, more accurately, they like teasing me about her. It's all Nicola's fault, but I cracked up the other day when Rich's wife called and asked me, on discovering I was sitting there, how things were going with the chip shop girl. While I was laughing at that, Rich explained what a train wreck my attempts on Rachel were as well, so she suggested I lower my standards. Ha, like that's going to happen any time soon. The problem is not finding a girl, it's finding a girl who's good enough for me. *grin* hey, I sound a bit like Roz.
Sunday (a week ago) was quite cool, because I went up to see Lou in Nottingham. It's an easy drive, actually, only about an hour away. Plus, excellent parking. Hi, I focus on sad things. So that was a nice day - we went for some lunch in Nottingham, which was delicious, then we went back to Lou's campus and I met some of her friends, who mostly ignored me completely, but her new boyfriend is a good guy. Although it was kind of a shame because Darsh, the complete doughnut that she is, didn't come and see us, even though I CALLED her from the pub the Wednesday before to make sure she'd be there. Honestly. Lou's so-called mysterious and attractive friends always seem to be out whenever I'm there. SUSPICIOUS? Yes. But she's terrific and we love her. And hey, she puts (pouts?) up with me, so I can't complain.
Tuesday was a calm, quiet, relaxing day until twenty-seven people suddenly invaded the house during the end of my piano lesson. See, I even skipped football to come home and do some proper practice for my exam this Thursday (well, I did end up going to the chippy and buying stupid amounts of alcohol. I swear, I've spent so much money in the past three weeks. But tomorrow is payday, hurrah!) but then all of a sudden the house was full of Canadians and okay, let me explain. Helen's school was doing a Canadian exchange last week and we were hosting one of them - a girl called Steph - and basically, Helen thought it'd be nice to invite a few of them over on Tuesday night to have a few drinks, watch a few films or something. Instead, they ALL came 'round and bought lots of alcohol and can I just say this? Canadians can't drink. Or at least, Canadian boys, because the girls were sound. But bloody hell. What is going over there in mild-mannered Canadia? There's some serious repression going down, judging from the way they all circled around the bottle of Jack Daniel's as if it was - okay, well, I was thinking of a way to end that sentence there, when Helen suggested either ..."a maypole?" or "stuck on the wall?" and I think, compared to that, anything I could come up with would just be lame. Either way, it had nothing whatsoever to do with custard. Just so we're clear. noTHGhinG! er...thing.
So yeah. By 11, having spent about two hours gliding around the house making sure people were and can I just at this point say that I'd like to extend warmest congratulations to Helen, who is sitting on my right here CORRECTING MY POST ever fifteen seconds because frankly, I can't write that well. the most annoying thing is that she's RIGHT because I just wrote EVER FIFTEEN SECONDS INSTEAD OF EVERY and I think I'm going to leave it how it was because it proves something, mostly that I'm stupid and hardly ever right, really, I just like to be argumentativeitaiev. how do you spell that again, Hel?
Yes, so then people started being sick, which isn't at the end of the day much of a problem, because we have a number of trusty sickbowls, and by midnight we'd chucked them all out anyway - no, my real gripe was with the pair of eejits who SAT ON THE DINING ROOM TABLE and basically broke it in half. AH. It is a hard life being me, and being so consistently surrounded by idiots. As Helen is just pointing out to me (see, she's like a little muse that I keep here, and if she comes up with good enough ideas I give her food, but otherwise, no), the guys who broke the table weren't even drunk. So here's a little tip for the party-host with the most toast - ignore the drunks. Give them a paper bag, a bowl and a glass of water and stick them outside staring at flowers or scratching themselves or whatever it is they do - watch the sober people. Because at the end of the day, sober people at parties clearly have ISSUES, and they're the sorts who are likely to be breaking things, or starting fires. I've got a friend called Emma who's one of these types. Dangerous, unpredictable. Don't let them out of your sight.
In unrelated news, they opened a Subway in Sutton. Funny thing is, though I think it's been there for months, I didn't notice it until about a week ago. But a SUBWAY. You all know how I feel about Subway. Every time I go in there I almost have a nervous breakdown, and I can't sleep properly for two weeks. Speaking of nervous breakdowns, I think I'm developing a stammer. I don't know who blame this on, so I'm going to hold all of you responsible. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, EH? DID I DO SOMETHING TO YOU?
Anyway. After disposing of the flipping Canadians, Helen, Steph and I tidied up the house to an extent and tried (and failed) to bury the body evidence, but decided that even Big Phil, aged and short-sighted as he is, would probably notice when he came to serve the Easter lunch that there was no table there to put it on. I suggested just using a different table, because I love the idea of the eight of us huddled around my old studying desk, which is so small you can't use it without getting your legs stuck and having to have them surgically removed. It was after the sixth amputation I decided I didn't want it any more.
The thing that cracked me up most about the party, though, is the way younger kids (by younger I mean younger than me, and we're talking 17 here, so not that young. Except in maturity, in which case I am streets ahead ;)) are at parties. For example, when we found out about the table, it wasn't because someone came up to me and said, "Andy, I'm really sorry, but this has happened...". No. In fact, we were looking for someone's bag. And these two kids were in the dining room, and we knocked and they were all "just a minute". I just thought there was a bit of harmless sexual fun going on in there - so whilst Helen and I were standing outside the closed door, I thought they were just putting their clothes back on and rearranging themselves. Eventually we got fed up and walked in, and I noticed the lad like, crouching under the table, and for a second I thought there was some sort of serious problem, like he was having some kind of attack. That was when I noticed the first splinter of wood on the floor.
So, first of all, they didn't tell me. As if I wasn't going to notice. Second, they're just LAME. I mean, this kid was there, being all "oh, you can fix it with superglue, we need some superglue", and I'm, get a fucking grip, mate. You've broken our table, so the first thing to do is just have some perspective about it. instead of talking rubbish, be talking about how you're going to be replacing it. This is one good thing you can say for Simon - when he breaks your door, at least he offers to pay for it afterwards. I think it must be some sort of guilt-induced panic that makes you talk complete bollocks. The classic one for the night was "we've got to sober him up! my mum will be here in five minutes!" A couple of the English kids were saying this about their Canadians, who'd had about ten straight shots, couldn't remember their own names, and had just spend twenty minutes with their head in the toilet. Because you're going to be able to sober them up, or hide the fact that they're drunk from your parents. Ridiculous. It's surely - yes I know I ramble on, Helen, but at this stage they're only reading because they want to - better just to be honest? People get drunk and get sick all the time.
So anyway. It was a strange evening, but kind of enjoyable one. I liked being the figure of authority, at a stately five foot six, or whatever I am. The part I got most worried about was the reaction of the parents at the end of the night, but it was only really one who got her knickers in a twist ("omg! aren't there any parents here?"), and nothing came of it, so it was fine. Most of them were sound about it - in fact, one kid's dad found the whole thing pretty hilarious. Ridiculous. But I enjoyed the fact that they all had a performance the following day, and there was definitely something satisfying in the way they went from OMG ALCOHOL at the start of the night to i want to die at the end. The fun thing is, drunk people are stupid. So you can hide the whiskey and know they won't find it, and you can convince them that tap water served in a pint glass is vodka. *grin* Oh well. Who's for a round of "Blame Canada"?
Wow. Ramblesome.
Thursday was terrific. After work, which was a good laugh 'cause I was in the warehouse, I came home and the weather was inexplicably gorgeous. Mm. Beer garden weather, right in the middle of March, it was terrific. So, in celebration of St Patrick's Day, I joined Dave D and his brother down at the Jockey for a few pints. Also, Thursday was the day when everyone came home, because they'd all been hanging out in Germany (Rachel and Dad, at least). It was lovely to see Niamh again. She's so ridiculously cute <3
So, yeah. I was in the pub with that lot for about twenty minutes before Faye arrived, because I'd actually arranged to meet her (remember how I said earlier about her remembering something for once?). Well, she showed up and we stayed in the pub talking until about half nine, or something. Faye's just excellent. It's cool to have a girly friend that I can just talk to about anything, without worrying about fancying her, or her wanting to sex me up, which as you can imagine is often the case :p. So we were in the pub until then, then we went to the chippy and came back here for a few more drinks (and honestly? whiskey is nobody's friend, even on St Paddy's day), before I sort of escorted her to meet up with some of her homeboys. Er. Friends. And that was Thursday.
Friday was great, because I didn't actually go out. See, on Wednesday, which I skipped for some reason, we went out to celebrate Rachel C's 18th birthday. We went up to Broad Street in a white limo, which her parents arranged, and that was kind of cool - because who doesn't want to be driving around in a limo with five girls? Well. People who hate limos, I suppose. Or girls. but, so, it was a laugh. And our night out wasn't bad either - I didn't drink all that much, to be honest, it's just that I didn't get to sleep until about quarter to four. It's just lucky they dissuaded me from cracking open the whiskey when we got a cab back at half three, to be honest. But yeah, lack of sleep fucks me up, to be honest. I really try to get to bed before midnight these days.
Wednesday night was kind of ... different, I guess. You guys all know I have a thing for Rachel, and our relationship at the moment is kind of bizarre, because it feels as though it's changed without having really changed. It's hard to explain. I mean, I really like her, and we have a laugh when we hang out - but at other times I get inexplicably moody with her - no doubt some residual rejection thing, but it's still sort of messing me up. When we were driving back from Essex this weekend (as you'll discover), Manda asked me whether I had a girlfriend, and when I said no she said she didn't get that. I'm not even sure myself, really. I suppose I don't go around looking for one, really, it's like I'm waiting for one to happen to me. Does that make sense? It's like when I go out, I don't go on the pull or whatever. I'm not sure I get it. It's probably a confidence thing. But hey, it gives me something to whine about.
So on Wednesday it was weird because I was being really flirty with these girls, friends of Rachel's. And I wasn't even doing it, ultimately, with any kind of motive- it's just fun to do the flirting thing, and sort of get the vibe back from someone? I dunno. It sounds sort of messed up. I just don't have the energy for it. I just want to meet someone that I like who likes me, and I'm cool to wait until Uni for that to happen - but I sort of hope it does. It's about time someone straightened me out a bit :p
Friday, then, I ended up having a cool day at work and then just going out to the cinema in the evening. See, I went to pick Andy up from the Plough, because he came to stop over at mine that night, because we were heading to Essex in the morning. Although that didn't happen before we went to see Hitch, which is an awesome movie, and that itself didn't happen before Andy and I had a little mission around Sutton, getting out money and returning DVDs and trying to find air and petrol for my car. But we had a good laugh.
The weekend was awesome. Really good fun. We drove down in the morning, and it wasn't too bad, really. I quite enjoy driving on the motorway, because with all the stop-start driving I do in and around Birmingham, it's nice to just fly down at eighty odd miles an hour. Even if it sometimes feels like you're going to get blown off the road - because honestly, sometimes it just takes a stiff breeze to have my car swinging between the lanes. But that was good. And we got to Essex, where Laura lives, and saw her and met her flatmates, and just had a really nice day. We went to Tesco for a little shopping adventure first, and bought barbecue supplies. It was funny, actually. We're so British. The first good weather of the year, and we're like "SUNTAN LOTION! BARBECUES! AHAHAH!" Seriously, though, it's not like LA. The good weather here is like sand - you have to hold onto it before it slips through your fingers. Plus, you can make sandcastles.. So, as it was Laura's flatmate's birthday, we decided to have a barbie to celebrate. And though it was warm when we actually went to buy it, it was getting seriously nippy by the time I was on my third burger. Damn fickle weather.
But I met lots of people, and it was awesome. Really good to see Laura again, as well. We went out in Ipswich on Saturday night - nothing to write home about, to be honest (can you imagine the stick?), but then clubbing's never exactly been my no. 1 hobby - but it was fun to meet some people. I've visited a few Unis and not really had a chance to get to know anyone, so this was different. Plus, the fact that they were mostly girls and mostly very attractive didn't hurt, exactly.
aw. I am running out of steam here, even though I know there's only about three of you left by now. I appreciate it if you made it this far, because this entry has basically sapped all my remaining energy. I won't walk properly for a couple of days, now. On Sunday I slept in, and sampled the soporific delights of Laura's hard, cold floor. It was a pretty fun day, though - I made a fry-up for everyone, then we went over to watch The O.C. (which I'd already seen the week before at Lou's) in the TV room, before Andy and I decided to hit the road back to Brum. It was an easy drive back - and we gave a lift to a girl from Bolton, a friend of Laura's, who was heading home for a few days. And I mean, it is a bit of a nightmare getting around down there. It cost, for all of us, about £100 in cab fare to and from Ipswich on Saturday night. Eech. I tell you what, I'm glad I was paid today. The amount of money I've spend recently is ridiculous.
Came back into Brum, dropped Manda at New Street, and then dropped Andy home, although not before stopping for McDonalds, The Incredibles on DVD and some more petrol. I was determined not to leave the house once I made it back here, so I got everything else out of the way in one trip. It was fun, though - and it was good to be with Andy, because he's just a dude. I got back and watched The Incredibles with Dad and Helen - still awesome - and then read another Meg Cabot book until a ridiculous time of the morning. I swear, there has to be some sort of section of one's brain - like the SAD one, that makes you happy in the sunshine (because it sure as hell does) - that means you cannot physically sleep until you finish your Meg Cabot book, even though you KNOW the ending. I swear. Spiritual really IS the only word.
Today, and I'm now getting a little nervous because this post smells a bit like it's almost done (well done, at that), I went to work, got paid, came home, read some bits of a book, practised the piano, went to the pub, and watched Friends. Good way to spend a day, if you ask me. I've got quite a bit of practice to do on the piano before my exam on Thursday - but honestly? I think I'm past the stage of worrying about it. Now, it's pretty much going to go down how it's going to go down, and I'm cool with that. If I pass, that's awesome - if I don't, well, that's really my own fault. So we'll just see how it goes.
Anyway! It's fast approaching midnight, and I'm leaving myself just enough time to clean my teeth and turn the computer off. Doubt you'll really read all of this, but it's another chapter for me, so I feel good. Nothing's quite as cathartic as an LJ post, you know? Will try and post a bit more frequently in future, although we've all heard that one before.
In short, hope you all had a good weekend and are having a good week so far. Happy belated birthdays to those who've been celebrating - RJ and Paige, for example. Hope you guys are enjoying your new, you know, oldness, and not doing anything I wouldn't do. *grin* Catch you later
-andy xx
p.s. can you imagine the hilarious reaction if I didn't LJ cut this? I mean, seriously. It'd stretch back to about 50 past entries for most of you :p
I had a good night on Monday, because it didn't involve any drink, Canadian vomit or motorway driving. I'll come back to those, although I guess you can imagine they make a pretty interesting combination. I seem to recall that after work (during which I was... in the office, I think? Or in the warehouse, I forget. I was definitely in the warehouse for most of the week. It was awesome, after being in the office for x weeks. Lots of good, harmless fun. And poor singing) I went to the Plough and Harrow with Alex - the P & H is where Andy works, which is the only reason we went there, because it's a shit pub (but try telling him that) - and we had some decent food, and a good chat.
Alex is sort of tricky to pin down, so it was nice to have a laugh with him. Funnily, his girlfriend lives about fifteen seconds from where my sister has just bought a new house, in a different part of Sutton. Anyway, where was I? Turned out Alex couldn't come with us to Essex on the weekend (i.e. yesterday and today), because he had made other plans because he is a SILLY PERSON frankly but, y'know, his loss. So we had a bit of a chinwag and he went off to see Lauren because he hadn't seen her for twenty minutes, and I came home because Andy was working until close.
I... think I went to the pub with ... Simon that evening? Or I maybe stayed in. I don't remember, really. What I do remember is that Simon just bought a new car, which OH YES that's exactly what happened. Funny how these things come back to me. I started reading a new book of Helen's by Meg Cabot... Teen Idol (layers. think layers) which was terrific, in that predictable way all Meg Cabot books are. Anyway, I was reading that until about half nine, when Simon called round in the aforementioned new car, and we went for a bit of a runaround, up to Tamworth and down the M42 and all sorts of nice things like that. It's a nice car. And it was fun to be a passenger for once, as well. I can't believe how much driving I do. Something like 3000-4000 miles since September, which I guess makes sense considering I go to and from work every day. But still. That's almost like driving across the Atlantic. Er, not really.
Came home and finished that Meg Cabot book, which was pretty, in a word, spiritual. I think that one'll stay with me. Anyway. Let's jump back momentarily to Saturday, on which I went to work at the chippy in the evening, and then went for a pint with Faye afterwards. That was pretty cool, although I'm starting to think there were better days we could've jumped back to. Although it kind of links with Thursday, and it was kind of special because it was the first time Faye and I made plans and she still remember them five days later. You see, Faye has (or at least claims to have) a short-term memory problem, which means that by Tuesday, she can't remember conversations she had on the weekend. Which is sort of trying, to say the least, because she has nearly always made other plans by the time I come to remind her about our terribly special evening at the pub, or a trip to the local phone box, or what have you.
They love Faye at work. Or, more accurately, they like teasing me about her. It's all Nicola's fault, but I cracked up the other day when Rich's wife called and asked me, on discovering I was sitting there, how things were going with the chip shop girl. While I was laughing at that, Rich explained what a train wreck my attempts on Rachel were as well, so she suggested I lower my standards. Ha, like that's going to happen any time soon. The problem is not finding a girl, it's finding a girl who's good enough for me. *grin* hey, I sound a bit like Roz.
Sunday (a week ago) was quite cool, because I went up to see Lou in Nottingham. It's an easy drive, actually, only about an hour away. Plus, excellent parking. Hi, I focus on sad things. So that was a nice day - we went for some lunch in Nottingham, which was delicious, then we went back to Lou's campus and I met some of her friends, who mostly ignored me completely, but her new boyfriend is a good guy. Although it was kind of a shame because Darsh, the complete doughnut that she is, didn't come and see us, even though I CALLED her from the pub the Wednesday before to make sure she'd be there. Honestly. Lou's so-called mysterious and attractive friends always seem to be out whenever I'm there. SUSPICIOUS? Yes. But she's terrific and we love her. And hey, she puts (pouts?) up with me, so I can't complain.
Tuesday was a calm, quiet, relaxing day until twenty-seven people suddenly invaded the house during the end of my piano lesson. See, I even skipped football to come home and do some proper practice for my exam this Thursday (well, I did end up going to the chippy and buying stupid amounts of alcohol. I swear, I've spent so much money in the past three weeks. But tomorrow is payday, hurrah!) but then all of a sudden the house was full of Canadians and okay, let me explain. Helen's school was doing a Canadian exchange last week and we were hosting one of them - a girl called Steph - and basically, Helen thought it'd be nice to invite a few of them over on Tuesday night to have a few drinks, watch a few films or something. Instead, they ALL came 'round and bought lots of alcohol and can I just say this? Canadians can't drink. Or at least, Canadian boys, because the girls were sound. But bloody hell. What is going over there in mild-mannered Canadia? There's some serious repression going down, judging from the way they all circled around the bottle of Jack Daniel's as if it was - okay, well, I was thinking of a way to end that sentence there, when Helen suggested either ..."a maypole?" or "stuck on the wall?" and I think, compared to that, anything I could come up with would just be lame. Either way, it had nothing whatsoever to do with custard. Just so we're clear. noTHGhinG! er...thing.
So yeah. By 11, having spent about two hours gliding around the house making sure people were and can I just at this point say that I'd like to extend warmest congratulations to Helen, who is sitting on my right here CORRECTING MY POST ever fifteen seconds because frankly, I can't write that well. the most annoying thing is that she's RIGHT because I just wrote EVER FIFTEEN SECONDS INSTEAD OF EVERY and I think I'm going to leave it how it was because it proves something, mostly that I'm stupid and hardly ever right, really, I just like to be argumentativeitaiev. how do you spell that again, Hel?
Yes, so then people started being sick, which isn't at the end of the day much of a problem, because we have a number of trusty sickbowls, and by midnight we'd chucked them all out anyway - no, my real gripe was with the pair of eejits who SAT ON THE DINING ROOM TABLE and basically broke it in half. AH. It is a hard life being me, and being so consistently surrounded by idiots. As Helen is just pointing out to me (see, she's like a little muse that I keep here, and if she comes up with good enough ideas I give her food, but otherwise, no), the guys who broke the table weren't even drunk. So here's a little tip for the party-host with the most toast - ignore the drunks. Give them a paper bag, a bowl and a glass of water and stick them outside staring at flowers or scratching themselves or whatever it is they do - watch the sober people. Because at the end of the day, sober people at parties clearly have ISSUES, and they're the sorts who are likely to be breaking things, or starting fires. I've got a friend called Emma who's one of these types. Dangerous, unpredictable. Don't let them out of your sight.
In unrelated news, they opened a Subway in Sutton. Funny thing is, though I think it's been there for months, I didn't notice it until about a week ago. But a SUBWAY. You all know how I feel about Subway. Every time I go in there I almost have a nervous breakdown, and I can't sleep properly for two weeks. Speaking of nervous breakdowns, I think I'm developing a stammer. I don't know who blame this on, so I'm going to hold all of you responsible. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, EH? DID I DO SOMETHING TO YOU?
Anyway. After disposing of the flipping Canadians, Helen, Steph and I tidied up the house to an extent and tried (and failed) to bury the body evidence, but decided that even Big Phil, aged and short-sighted as he is, would probably notice when he came to serve the Easter lunch that there was no table there to put it on. I suggested just using a different table, because I love the idea of the eight of us huddled around my old studying desk, which is so small you can't use it without getting your legs stuck and having to have them surgically removed. It was after the sixth amputation I decided I didn't want it any more.
The thing that cracked me up most about the party, though, is the way younger kids (by younger I mean younger than me, and we're talking 17 here, so not that young. Except in maturity, in which case I am streets ahead ;)) are at parties. For example, when we found out about the table, it wasn't because someone came up to me and said, "Andy, I'm really sorry, but this has happened...". No. In fact, we were looking for someone's bag. And these two kids were in the dining room, and we knocked and they were all "just a minute". I just thought there was a bit of harmless sexual fun going on in there - so whilst Helen and I were standing outside the closed door, I thought they were just putting their clothes back on and rearranging themselves. Eventually we got fed up and walked in, and I noticed the lad like, crouching under the table, and for a second I thought there was some sort of serious problem, like he was having some kind of attack. That was when I noticed the first splinter of wood on the floor.
So, first of all, they didn't tell me. As if I wasn't going to notice. Second, they're just LAME. I mean, this kid was there, being all "oh, you can fix it with superglue, we need some superglue", and I'm, get a fucking grip, mate. You've broken our table, so the first thing to do is just have some perspective about it. instead of talking rubbish, be talking about how you're going to be replacing it. This is one good thing you can say for Simon - when he breaks your door, at least he offers to pay for it afterwards. I think it must be some sort of guilt-induced panic that makes you talk complete bollocks. The classic one for the night was "we've got to sober him up! my mum will be here in five minutes!" A couple of the English kids were saying this about their Canadians, who'd had about ten straight shots, couldn't remember their own names, and had just spend twenty minutes with their head in the toilet. Because you're going to be able to sober them up, or hide the fact that they're drunk from your parents. Ridiculous. It's surely - yes I know I ramble on, Helen, but at this stage they're only reading because they want to - better just to be honest? People get drunk and get sick all the time.
So anyway. It was a strange evening, but kind of enjoyable one. I liked being the figure of authority, at a stately five foot six, or whatever I am. The part I got most worried about was the reaction of the parents at the end of the night, but it was only really one who got her knickers in a twist ("omg! aren't there any parents here?"), and nothing came of it, so it was fine. Most of them were sound about it - in fact, one kid's dad found the whole thing pretty hilarious. Ridiculous. But I enjoyed the fact that they all had a performance the following day, and there was definitely something satisfying in the way they went from OMG ALCOHOL at the start of the night to i want to die at the end. The fun thing is, drunk people are stupid. So you can hide the whiskey and know they won't find it, and you can convince them that tap water served in a pint glass is vodka. *grin* Oh well. Who's for a round of "Blame Canada"?
Wow. Ramblesome.
Thursday was terrific. After work, which was a good laugh 'cause I was in the warehouse, I came home and the weather was inexplicably gorgeous. Mm. Beer garden weather, right in the middle of March, it was terrific. So, in celebration of St Patrick's Day, I joined Dave D and his brother down at the Jockey for a few pints. Also, Thursday was the day when everyone came home, because they'd all been hanging out in Germany (Rachel and Dad, at least). It was lovely to see Niamh again. She's so ridiculously cute <3
So, yeah. I was in the pub with that lot for about twenty minutes before Faye arrived, because I'd actually arranged to meet her (remember how I said earlier about her remembering something for once?). Well, she showed up and we stayed in the pub talking until about half nine, or something. Faye's just excellent. It's cool to have a girly friend that I can just talk to about anything, without worrying about fancying her, or her wanting to sex me up, which as you can imagine is often the case :p. So we were in the pub until then, then we went to the chippy and came back here for a few more drinks (and honestly? whiskey is nobody's friend, even on St Paddy's day), before I sort of escorted her to meet up with some of her homeboys. Er. Friends. And that was Thursday.
Friday was great, because I didn't actually go out. See, on Wednesday, which I skipped for some reason, we went out to celebrate Rachel C's 18th birthday. We went up to Broad Street in a white limo, which her parents arranged, and that was kind of cool - because who doesn't want to be driving around in a limo with five girls? Well. People who hate limos, I suppose. Or girls. but, so, it was a laugh. And our night out wasn't bad either - I didn't drink all that much, to be honest, it's just that I didn't get to sleep until about quarter to four. It's just lucky they dissuaded me from cracking open the whiskey when we got a cab back at half three, to be honest. But yeah, lack of sleep fucks me up, to be honest. I really try to get to bed before midnight these days.
Wednesday night was kind of ... different, I guess. You guys all know I have a thing for Rachel, and our relationship at the moment is kind of bizarre, because it feels as though it's changed without having really changed. It's hard to explain. I mean, I really like her, and we have a laugh when we hang out - but at other times I get inexplicably moody with her - no doubt some residual rejection thing, but it's still sort of messing me up. When we were driving back from Essex this weekend (as you'll discover), Manda asked me whether I had a girlfriend, and when I said no she said she didn't get that. I'm not even sure myself, really. I suppose I don't go around looking for one, really, it's like I'm waiting for one to happen to me. Does that make sense? It's like when I go out, I don't go on the pull or whatever. I'm not sure I get it. It's probably a confidence thing. But hey, it gives me something to whine about.
So on Wednesday it was weird because I was being really flirty with these girls, friends of Rachel's. And I wasn't even doing it, ultimately, with any kind of motive- it's just fun to do the flirting thing, and sort of get the vibe back from someone? I dunno. It sounds sort of messed up. I just don't have the energy for it. I just want to meet someone that I like who likes me, and I'm cool to wait until Uni for that to happen - but I sort of hope it does. It's about time someone straightened me out a bit :p
Friday, then, I ended up having a cool day at work and then just going out to the cinema in the evening. See, I went to pick Andy up from the Plough, because he came to stop over at mine that night, because we were heading to Essex in the morning. Although that didn't happen before we went to see Hitch, which is an awesome movie, and that itself didn't happen before Andy and I had a little mission around Sutton, getting out money and returning DVDs and trying to find air and petrol for my car. But we had a good laugh.
The weekend was awesome. Really good fun. We drove down in the morning, and it wasn't too bad, really. I quite enjoy driving on the motorway, because with all the stop-start driving I do in and around Birmingham, it's nice to just fly down at eighty odd miles an hour. Even if it sometimes feels like you're going to get blown off the road - because honestly, sometimes it just takes a stiff breeze to have my car swinging between the lanes. But that was good. And we got to Essex, where Laura lives, and saw her and met her flatmates, and just had a really nice day. We went to Tesco for a little shopping adventure first, and bought barbecue supplies. It was funny, actually. We're so British. The first good weather of the year, and we're like "SUNTAN LOTION! BARBECUES! AHAHAH!" Seriously, though, it's not like LA. The good weather here is like sand - you have to hold onto it before it slips through your fingers. Plus, you can make sandcastles.. So, as it was Laura's flatmate's birthday, we decided to have a barbie to celebrate. And though it was warm when we actually went to buy it, it was getting seriously nippy by the time I was on my third burger. Damn fickle weather.
But I met lots of people, and it was awesome. Really good to see Laura again, as well. We went out in Ipswich on Saturday night - nothing to write home about, to be honest (can you imagine the stick?), but then clubbing's never exactly been my no. 1 hobby - but it was fun to meet some people. I've visited a few Unis and not really had a chance to get to know anyone, so this was different. Plus, the fact that they were mostly girls and mostly very attractive didn't hurt, exactly.
aw. I am running out of steam here, even though I know there's only about three of you left by now. I appreciate it if you made it this far, because this entry has basically sapped all my remaining energy. I won't walk properly for a couple of days, now. On Sunday I slept in, and sampled the soporific delights of Laura's hard, cold floor. It was a pretty fun day, though - I made a fry-up for everyone, then we went over to watch The O.C. (which I'd already seen the week before at Lou's) in the TV room, before Andy and I decided to hit the road back to Brum. It was an easy drive back - and we gave a lift to a girl from Bolton, a friend of Laura's, who was heading home for a few days. And I mean, it is a bit of a nightmare getting around down there. It cost, for all of us, about £100 in cab fare to and from Ipswich on Saturday night. Eech. I tell you what, I'm glad I was paid today. The amount of money I've spend recently is ridiculous.
Came back into Brum, dropped Manda at New Street, and then dropped Andy home, although not before stopping for McDonalds, The Incredibles on DVD and some more petrol. I was determined not to leave the house once I made it back here, so I got everything else out of the way in one trip. It was fun, though - and it was good to be with Andy, because he's just a dude. I got back and watched The Incredibles with Dad and Helen - still awesome - and then read another Meg Cabot book until a ridiculous time of the morning. I swear, there has to be some sort of section of one's brain - like the SAD one, that makes you happy in the sunshine (because it sure as hell does) - that means you cannot physically sleep until you finish your Meg Cabot book, even though you KNOW the ending. I swear. Spiritual really IS the only word.
Today, and I'm now getting a little nervous because this post smells a bit like it's almost done (well done, at that), I went to work, got paid, came home, read some bits of a book, practised the piano, went to the pub, and watched Friends. Good way to spend a day, if you ask me. I've got quite a bit of practice to do on the piano before my exam on Thursday - but honestly? I think I'm past the stage of worrying about it. Now, it's pretty much going to go down how it's going to go down, and I'm cool with that. If I pass, that's awesome - if I don't, well, that's really my own fault. So we'll just see how it goes.
Anyway! It's fast approaching midnight, and I'm leaving myself just enough time to clean my teeth and turn the computer off. Doubt you'll really read all of this, but it's another chapter for me, so I feel good. Nothing's quite as cathartic as an LJ post, you know? Will try and post a bit more frequently in future, although we've all heard that one before.
In short, hope you all had a good weekend and are having a good week so far. Happy belated birthdays to those who've been celebrating - RJ and Paige, for example. Hope you guys are enjoying your new, you know, oldness, and not doing anything I wouldn't do. *grin* Catch you later
-andy xx
p.s. can you imagine the hilarious reaction if I didn't LJ cut this? I mean, seriously. It'd stretch back to about 50 past entries for most of you :p