Heavy duty black bin bags...
Well hello whine-journal...I see you are just as enthralling as ever.
*Live journal leans on hands and attempts to look interested*
oh yeah?
Mmmmm.Its been an odd week.Ive been stressed and undressed and waiting for results and queing outside offices and falling down stairs and ripping all the skin off one foot for some reason.
I feel like the end of a Stephen King book...plotless and rushed.
Manchester was balls and I spent my time face down in a park surrounded by half naked goths who appeared to be having a foam party.The whole M.E.N debacle is rapidly fading from my mind...it was very boring...though I did like the city,and was enthralled by the fact that they have not a pound shop,but a POUND EMPIRE.Morrissey made me feel ill and bored.Manchester is alot like Dublin,except cleaner and with slightly less puke on the streets.
I was pleased to find a grotto stocked with discount underwear,and a shop called 'Fopp' which was full of men in black gazing at their reflections in C.D cases.I bought a few things,including Depeche Modes 'Some great Reward'.I got it because it has 'Master and servant'on it,a song I'm completely obsessed with at the moment and have to listen to at least three times a day..I was pleasantly surprised to find the rest of the songs rather enjoyable too,since I normally find Dave Gahan groaningly pompous and the fact he wont die annoys me.Oh yes,and I bought a P.I.L CD for some reason,which I still havent listened to and probably never will,and some Roxy music albums because they make me feel vicariously(?)decadent and romantic.
The high point of my stay was seeing a tramp-lady in the toilets in victoria station trying to wash her hair in a free sample of washing up liquid.
And I'm proud of myself for not dying.
The end of year Ball was on thursday... I went wearing a french maids outfit fabricated from a binbag taped in with black gaffa.My bottom looked like two squashed liquorice allsorts.Ridiculous? yes.I was exceedingly proud of myself because I did a good job looking skinny,and was glad it distracted attention away from my face,which I've decide to hate.I wasnt even bothered about not being able to bend over or go to the toilet for 8 hours.
Everyone was swarming and desperately sociable...I got sticky from kissing utter strangers and having wobbly awkward sweaty conversations.I dont want to speak to anyone for at least a week.
As I was running back and forth bouncing my head against the side of the tent and laughing hysterically,I suddenly spied a ginger man swinging a severed pigs head around on a rope.Very exciting.'Anyone who does that must be quite a catch'I thought to myself naively,'and hes GINGER'So I decided to make his acquaintance.I asked him where he got it from and kissed the cold dead snout...it had revolting popping out eyes and the sound of its teeth clicking together was wretch-inducingly thrilling...
'Aaaah,this? I got it in a magical place...I will show you.'
the magical place turned out to be a peeling wall at back of a shed,and he didnt put up much of a show...probably due to his tiny wand.I didnt want my bag torn,and since he was the wrong shade of ginger,and I became inexplicably revolted,I gave him the slip and ran away to dance.
Later,As I was sitting cross legged on the floor feeling clammy,an unassuming and featureless dough headed boy from third year simply came up and asked me if I'd like to go home with him.I was deeply impressed.He didnt lie to me or say my eyes looked like swimming pools or some such shite,he simply said he liked my outfit and wouldnt mind seeing me naked,and since I had neither taxi money nor self esteem,I said yes.
I ended up in a garden shed having my bag torn off slowly in little bits,with the rain coming down outside,which was nice,and it didnt mean anything but it wasnt that bad...and Ive come to the conclusion thats probably as good as it gets.Now he sends rude and miss-spelt text messages...and I wont see him again.he has no facial features,uses abbreviations and has less taste in music than a taxi driver.
I'm so relieved that my end of year results turned out well.I feel like a jet plane is taking off in my guts.Apparently I'm 'really exciting the department'.This cant be a bad thing.
All that melodrama and hand wringing!
I genuinely thought I'd failed.
There is a lesson here,but I shall probably choose to ignore it.
*Live journal leans on hands and attempts to look interested*
oh yeah?
Mmmmm.Its been an odd week.Ive been stressed and undressed and waiting for results and queing outside offices and falling down stairs and ripping all the skin off one foot for some reason.
I feel like the end of a Stephen King book...plotless and rushed.
Manchester was balls and I spent my time face down in a park surrounded by half naked goths who appeared to be having a foam party.The whole M.E.N debacle is rapidly fading from my mind...it was very boring...though I did like the city,and was enthralled by the fact that they have not a pound shop,but a POUND EMPIRE.Morrissey made me feel ill and bored.Manchester is alot like Dublin,except cleaner and with slightly less puke on the streets.
I was pleased to find a grotto stocked with discount underwear,and a shop called 'Fopp' which was full of men in black gazing at their reflections in C.D cases.I bought a few things,including Depeche Modes 'Some great Reward'.I got it because it has 'Master and servant'on it,a song I'm completely obsessed with at the moment and have to listen to at least three times a day..I was pleasantly surprised to find the rest of the songs rather enjoyable too,since I normally find Dave Gahan groaningly pompous and the fact he wont die annoys me.Oh yes,and I bought a P.I.L CD for some reason,which I still havent listened to and probably never will,and some Roxy music albums because they make me feel vicariously(?)decadent and romantic.
The high point of my stay was seeing a tramp-lady in the toilets in victoria station trying to wash her hair in a free sample of washing up liquid.
And I'm proud of myself for not dying.
The end of year Ball was on thursday... I went wearing a french maids outfit fabricated from a binbag taped in with black gaffa.My bottom looked like two squashed liquorice allsorts.Ridiculous? yes.I was exceedingly proud of myself because I did a good job looking skinny,and was glad it distracted attention away from my face,which I've decide to hate.I wasnt even bothered about not being able to bend over or go to the toilet for 8 hours.
Everyone was swarming and desperately sociable...I got sticky from kissing utter strangers and having wobbly awkward sweaty conversations.I dont want to speak to anyone for at least a week.
As I was running back and forth bouncing my head against the side of the tent and laughing hysterically,I suddenly spied a ginger man swinging a severed pigs head around on a rope.Very exciting.'Anyone who does that must be quite a catch'I thought to myself naively,'and hes GINGER'So I decided to make his acquaintance.I asked him where he got it from and kissed the cold dead snout...it had revolting popping out eyes and the sound of its teeth clicking together was wretch-inducingly thrilling...
'Aaaah,this? I got it in a magical place...I will show you.'
the magical place turned out to be a peeling wall at back of a shed,and he didnt put up much of a show...probably due to his tiny wand.I didnt want my bag torn,and since he was the wrong shade of ginger,and I became inexplicably revolted,I gave him the slip and ran away to dance.
Later,As I was sitting cross legged on the floor feeling clammy,an unassuming and featureless dough headed boy from third year simply came up and asked me if I'd like to go home with him.I was deeply impressed.He didnt lie to me or say my eyes looked like swimming pools or some such shite,he simply said he liked my outfit and wouldnt mind seeing me naked,and since I had neither taxi money nor self esteem,I said yes.
I ended up in a garden shed having my bag torn off slowly in little bits,with the rain coming down outside,which was nice,and it didnt mean anything but it wasnt that bad...and Ive come to the conclusion thats probably as good as it gets.Now he sends rude and miss-spelt text messages...and I wont see him again.he has no facial features,uses abbreviations and has less taste in music than a taxi driver.
I'm so relieved that my end of year results turned out well.I feel like a jet plane is taking off in my guts.Apparently I'm 'really exciting the department'.This cant be a bad thing.
All that melodrama and hand wringing!
I genuinely thought I'd failed.
There is a lesson here,but I shall probably choose to ignore it.