"Her Hitler haircut is making me fill ill..."

Oh dear God.

I feel very bizarre right now.

Sat at work still buzzing from the weekend - I keep thinking my colleagues are looking at me weird. I'm sure they're not. Maybe a touch of paranoia - not sure. That's the thing with paranoia - you can never tell if what you're worried about is actually happening in anyway.

hmmm

What a wicked weekend. Mine and Evan's non-drinking came to abrupt end on Friday and we really went for it. Vodka, beer, Schnapps, B52's, Sambucca, and apparently I had a Tequila but I've only just found this out from Jon who I sit opposite at work. He bought Pernod for everyone but I said I'd rather Tequila. Hmmm
Satureday was spent largely in bed until we decided to treat ourselves with fish. Cafe Fish is a must to all. Fucking incredible food and nice atmosphere. I had lobster envy so I didn't enjoy the swordfish as much as I could have but it was still lovely. After dinner we met up with my exceptionally pissed best mate/flatmate and laughed at her and then I went to sleep.

Yesterday, has to be however, the bizarrest day ever. It was my Mum's birthday (57 I think) so I went home for lunch and took Evan along too to meet my parents. I have a small family who aren't the most hectic of people. Visiting them is like going to a relaxation camp for a day - things move veeeeeeerrrrrrrrryyyyy sllloooooowwwwwllly. This can be exceptionally frustrating/boring/tedious but, given the right mood by all family members, it can be a lot of fun and luckily that was what happened yesterday. They welcomed Evan with open arms - Evan can be very charming when he wants to be. I never knew that about him. Anyway, my Mum's normal diabolical cooking came good and the chicken wasn't quite as dry as usual, roast potatos were actually cooked and the yorkshire puddings weren't too much like biscuits. The vegetables were of course over-cooked to the point of disintegration but hey, you can't have everything.

From my parents me and Evan went to Romford for reasons that are now a little sketchy. Needless to say, I feel crappy and could have done without standing at Ilford Station at midnight in the freezing fucking cold, but nevermind.

I'm crying out of tonight's celebrations. I feel a bit square but just can't quite handle it today.

There's only so much drink and fish a girl can take.

"Friday night's for drinking, Saturday night's for..."

The drinking game is a hazardous one.

Me and Evan fell off the wagon last night and celebrated the most meagre amounts of money ever coming into our possession by taking up residency in the nearest Weatherspoons pub (notoriously cheap but not cheerful) and drank two pints of Hoegarden and a shot (predictably) of Peach Schnapps. Saw a couple of bands under the banner of 'work' and then went home and er...yeah.

The whole point of us not drinking and limiting ourselves to just one night of debauchery a week was to cut out nights like last night where we have 5/6 drinks, feel pissed in an inappropriate 'work' environment, saying something inappropriate and wrong, buying a Burger King and then going home and feeling like shit the next day. Hence the non-drinking. It's terribly hard though as my issue is that I find it hard to stop once I've started drinking. And going for one is really just not an option anymore.

I hear that that's not a good sign.

I much prefer big nights out anyway. I like being 'out out' not 'work out' and getting really pissed with a whole bunch of mates you don't mind making a dick out of yourself in front of, having a dance to a song you haven't heard in ages. Sooooooo much fun. Its this kinda night that I've been craving for for a while now and somehow it never quite works out. I need a rock/metal night that plays really good rock/metal.
I'm kinda trying to convince Evan that we should do this tonight - a band I work with is playing in Camden at an NME night (vomit). Everything is there to make this night brilliant except for the fact the music is going to be utter bollox-y shite (not the band's music though of course) I mean the DJs after it.
Still if you're sooooo pissed music can almost be irrelevant. The dilemma is thus: Friday night drunkeness OR Saturday night romantic dinner for two at Cafe Fish.

Drink vs Fish

Its a tricky one.

"The looser the waistband, the deeper the quicksand..."

OK. I know I'm about to offend a lot of people in the world with what I want to say but I just have to get it off my chest.
If you're 'big boned' I'd look away now.

Fat people annoy me. A LOT! What's wrong with them? I've been a little bit chubby in my time, and I'm short so I think that it shows up more, and I'm sure I moaned about it too. But ultimately I knew that the more cakes, chocolates, beer, pasta, fried food, etc I consumed the more I would put on weight. So I stopped, and sure enough I lost the weight.

Now, why is it then that it's fat people that you see stuffing their faces with chocolate; trying to do it all subtly, like if no one sees them, then they're not doing it? I sat next to this fat woman on the tube last night and she had a tube of Mini Eggs. She squashed her podgy sausage fingers inside the tube and seeked out one egg at a time and slyly shoved it in her puffy face. She'd try desperately to not eat it straight away; making this hidious sucking noise but the whole carriage (including the guy who smelt like he'd poo-ed himself) knew what she was up to. And I guarantee the only thing we were all thinking was:
"Why don't you just put them all in your gob and enjoy the chocolate like you want to. We all know you just want to inhale them, so don't pretend to us and yourself that you're not eating something you shouldn't. EAT THEM!!! Or better still; have a fucking apple. And it's not your fucking thyroid gland that's making you fat - it's the Mini Eggs and no....you're not big-boned, you're fat. If you don't want to be then lose some weight, if you're happy then fine, wicked , it's important to feel good about yourself, but if you're not and you hate being fat - then don't eat the frigging Mini Eggs."

Last night I ate the most sublime dinner that my best friend/flatmate Jenny cooked for me. Well it was actually Me, Evan, Jenny and her boyfriend Owen. A bit couple-y for my liking but hey, it was purely geographical. We had Pork in a creamy sauce with swede, potato, and green beans. Then we had rice pudding with honey. It ruled. Just before that I'd eaten a Toffee Crisp.

Hmmmm

"It's too close to home and its too near the bone, more than you'll ever know."

I've woken up feeling all snotty and headache-y.

Last night was a weird one. Yesterday in general was a bit shit if truth be known. No money, no alcohol, no doobies - nothing. I met up with some of my friends from back home. I'm from Amersham in S.Buckinghamshire *yawn* - a small town about 30 miles outside of London - and well, I'll just say that at 18 I was ready to get the fuck out of there and so I left as quick as I could. Many people stay there - in fact the group of 'lads' that I knocked about with from the age of 16 - 18 are pretty much all still festering in there; going out with girls that their mates have been out with, drinking in the same pub for years on end, playing football on a Sunday, believing that a 'proper night out' is going to the Zoo Bar in Leicester Square etc etc. I saw the limitations in living a life like that so I opted to go to Manchester University and free myself from the stale, boring, closed-mindedness of the big 'A'.
Only 4 other people who I consider to be friends have managed to do the same - 3 of them I met up with last night. Matt and Nicola are to be married in May (awww) and Phil is about to embark on a fascinating sales job involving selling equipment/instruments to brain surgeons! hmm
I like him the best as he shares my views on travellers/backpackers. One rant for another day...

Anway - it was lovely to see them I guess but me and Evan aren't drinking at the moment - we haven't got any money and we were miserable gits quite frankly so that kinda spoiled things a bit - but hey, they're mates - they should understand right?

Money still hasn't come.

Evan is sat on the doorstep waiting for the postman.

Another frustrating day looms on the horizon...

"Money for nothin', and chicks for free"

Bollocks!

Literally no money - none at all. Nothing. Bollocks.

We (me and Evan) spent all our (our???) money last Thursday and Friday night. We had a budget, it covered us drinking and having fun but not going crazy or ordering taxis...
Thursday night we were at the NME Awards aftershow party and spent all our money on beer, got very drunk, argued and then got a taxi home.
Friday night we weren't going to drink because we'd spent our money on the taxi, but we blagged some and I pulled in a favour and we got completely spannered.

We knew that if we were going to do that then that would leave us with nothing until Tuesday. We thought about it for about 2 seconds and ordered in another pint. Subsequently we've not had any money since. AND the money that we knew was coming...hasn't come.
I owe my mate £65 for the SECOND installment of payment for her hen do, and we can't even afford the bus fare to get to her to tell her that I haven't got her second installment for her pissing hen do.

The office went quiet a minute ago and I blurted out "does anyone have £65 they can lend me?" They all laughed.
I don't think they realise I was serious.

I saw 'Hear No Evil, See No Evil' the other day. I wonder if I can get Evan to hold up a bank with his erection....

"Welcome to the jungle..."

Hmm

I blame Evan for this. He's the guy I've been going out with for a grand total of 7 weeks. He's been writing a blog since October which I've read, I guess, daily. He's funny I suppose but its irritatingly led me to believe that doing my own blog would be fun.
Jury's still out on that one.

I've had a day of annoying limitations and an almost constant itchy nose coupled with exceptionally sore shoulders and neck. A rather hedonistic Friday has still left its effect on me I think and whilst I'm young in mind - I'm starting to feel old in body. I have a completely irrational fear of getting old so the idea that my body can no longer put up with what I choose to do with it - really upsets me.
I hate the idea of getting old. The day before my birthday every year I start crying (!!!). I'm aware that its a completely irrational thing to get upset about but still...the idea that I'll never see this part of my life again fills me with horror. Not that this part of my life is spectaculary brilliant (although it just so happens to be so) or that I believe that my life will get worse as I get older - its just a fear of it possibly being worse and regretting not making the most of my life now.

Its this thought that has left me unbelievably broke - I have, no joke, 30p to my name.

What a dick.