Kayleigh, mark 2
I can't believe I failed psychology. What an utter marmite-burgling result. I don't think many of us were expecting that. The marks for the class overall were abismal. Bloody Ms Kokhar. She turned out to be a right backstabber of a dirt-monkey. I shall consequently blame her for my bad mark and quietly simmer throughout my resit. Debating whether or not to resit General Studies. Other than that, I was pleased enough. I self-tutored myself an A in Lit, and even managed to scrape an A in Theatre Studies. And now I never have to do it again. I win.
Currently at my mum's work (still covering her sorry ass while she's on holiday) and crawling out of a three-day binge of sex, drugs, drink and rock and roll. Really went for it last night. It's amazing I was still conscious/functional.
Tuesday: 6 bottles of cobra, 1 Fosters, 2 gin and fanta concoctions, shot or two of vodka, 1 spliff.
Wednesday: 1 morphine pill, 5 cans of Guinness, 4 cups of sake, and whatever I drank at Debbie's. Probably just a couple of beers.
Yesterday: 3 pints of Kronenberg, 1 G&T before seeing Jess... Then getting bored... Then spending around £40 on double G&Ts. That's about 17. Then 2 Fosters, then a Corona, interspersed with way too many cigarettes. Every day, in every way, I am coming more and more apart at the seams.
Jess is saying that to me a lot now. "Oh Kay, you're coming apart at the seams, aren't you?"
I think it's funny. It just makes me think of fat people.
Over the last few weeks I appear to have upgraded considerably. For inexplicable reasons, I am now a Sex Ninja. Maybe all I needed to do was grow into myself or something. Either way, it's cool as hell. I officially love men. Got a date and a casual drink lined up on Saturday (Racist Joe and random volunteer worker called Clayton). I am the sex. Well. Maybe not, but considering I've just come out of somewhat of a sex drought it's all good.
Got talking to Jess's big furry friend Adrian (aka "Don't touch me, I'm on crack" man). Despite my being uterly afeared of him before - he's about as tall as my house, very bearded and generally a bit like a bear - he's actually quite friendly and cuddly. He has a beard even cooler than Chaz's (but don't tell Chaz that or he'll disown me. Or worse, shave off the beard). I am now a beard artist. I hijacked it with HARD gel and came to see that he makes an exceptionally good viking.
Jess's friends are generally quite scary. Paul does nothing but frown and look pierced, that guy whose name I don't know is just generally silent and spooky, and the less said about Karl the better. Still attracted to him. Still can't work out why. Still disgusted with myself. Still an emo kid apparently. Ah well.
Got my tattoo finally. Was nervous as a salmon, and was in muchos pain, but eventually got into it. The Icarus flies proudly on my right hip, and is conveniently invisible to parental vision. Doesn't hurt at all, and it looks amazing. I love it. It's fucking beautiful. Wheeeeeeee. Jess came with me and ended up feeling sick. Not me. I just went partially blind and got a lemon flavoured lollypop thrust up my nostril (thanks Jess...).
Bleh. Slacked off enough. Time to earn my keep with lots of nice filing. More pretentious updates forthcoming.
Currently at my mum's work (still covering her sorry ass while she's on holiday) and crawling out of a three-day binge of sex, drugs, drink and rock and roll. Really went for it last night. It's amazing I was still conscious/functional.
Tuesday: 6 bottles of cobra, 1 Fosters, 2 gin and fanta concoctions, shot or two of vodka, 1 spliff.
Wednesday: 1 morphine pill, 5 cans of Guinness, 4 cups of sake, and whatever I drank at Debbie's. Probably just a couple of beers.
Yesterday: 3 pints of Kronenberg, 1 G&T before seeing Jess... Then getting bored... Then spending around £40 on double G&Ts. That's about 17. Then 2 Fosters, then a Corona, interspersed with way too many cigarettes. Every day, in every way, I am coming more and more apart at the seams.
Jess is saying that to me a lot now. "Oh Kay, you're coming apart at the seams, aren't you?"
I think it's funny. It just makes me think of fat people.
Over the last few weeks I appear to have upgraded considerably. For inexplicable reasons, I am now a Sex Ninja. Maybe all I needed to do was grow into myself or something. Either way, it's cool as hell. I officially love men. Got a date and a casual drink lined up on Saturday (Racist Joe and random volunteer worker called Clayton). I am the sex. Well. Maybe not, but considering I've just come out of somewhat of a sex drought it's all good.
Got talking to Jess's big furry friend Adrian (aka "Don't touch me, I'm on crack" man). Despite my being uterly afeared of him before - he's about as tall as my house, very bearded and generally a bit like a bear - he's actually quite friendly and cuddly. He has a beard even cooler than Chaz's (but don't tell Chaz that or he'll disown me. Or worse, shave off the beard). I am now a beard artist. I hijacked it with HARD gel and came to see that he makes an exceptionally good viking.
Jess's friends are generally quite scary. Paul does nothing but frown and look pierced, that guy whose name I don't know is just generally silent and spooky, and the less said about Karl the better. Still attracted to him. Still can't work out why. Still disgusted with myself. Still an emo kid apparently. Ah well.
Got my tattoo finally. Was nervous as a salmon, and was in muchos pain, but eventually got into it. The Icarus flies proudly on my right hip, and is conveniently invisible to parental vision. Doesn't hurt at all, and it looks amazing. I love it. It's fucking beautiful. Wheeeeeeee. Jess came with me and ended up feeling sick. Not me. I just went partially blind and got a lemon flavoured lollypop thrust up my nostril (thanks Jess...).
Bleh. Slacked off enough. Time to earn my keep with lots of nice filing. More pretentious updates forthcoming.