Fourth of May 2004
Written by Guest Token Northerner Emma (aged 252 months and a bit.)
The day I discovered it’s never a bad idea to stay in bed
(unless said bed is on fire due to electric blanket malfunction thanks to hungry bunnies)
(but that’s a story for another day)
(not even a good story at that)
(anyhow, I digress…)
Any day you wake up when the alarm goes off, with no mumbling about “what? It can’t be 15 hours already!” or “aaaahhhh bastard sunshine, bastard tweety birds, bastard weirdo upstairs neighbour singing Elton John songs”, gently pull the duvet back over your head and start counting those fuzzy little sheepies. You’ll be in the land of nod in no time. (if the sheep don’t work, I heartily recommend some prescription pain medication, readily available from your local friendly Casualty department, all you have to do is fall awkwardly on a fencepost). It seems like a waste of a glorious day right now, but you’re doing yourself a big favour. You’re saving yourself from one of the most miserable days in existence. Even the slightest tingle of motivation and you’re doomed. Well, I say doomed, to be more accurate I mean bummed repeatedly by a stick wielding yokel and his stick wielding goldfish. You can never have enough sleep, it’s good for you, that’s when we all grow and stuff. Although I think someone lied about that somewhere. I sleep like a mofo and I’m only 5’3. Go figure.
I should have listened to my own advice. I should have ignored that sparkly, twinkly, eager feeling I had when the alarm went off and I skipped merrily to the shower. I should have bitched at the sun shining in my face as I dried my hair which was sitting unusually well for such a warm day. I just can’t take a hint. I was even looking forward to going to uni, and that hasn’t happened since I stopped getting the urge to lick the neck of the poor sod sitting in front of me. Since I know Pete likes his science, the only way I can accurately depict the decline of today is with a time line sort of deal. Bear in mind I should be writing ground breaking essays about Dallas right now. And scratching…
10:35 – Phone Call : Vicki. Apparently no one’s going to class. Am slightly irked, as am all dressed and raring to go. Never mind, will use this time to be productive. YES! Will not go back to bed, will write essays and be mega resourceful and have fabulous time management. How good am I!
11:09 – Have done no essay work whatsoever. Hmm.
11:10 – Get distracted by new website. Enter competitions for things I don’t want.
12:00 - Have finally started essay. Hurrah. Although, it rained through the night, soaked my post it’s, which happen to be bright pink, and stained my windowsill. It will take a lot of Tipp-Ex to fix that. (strange feeling growing in belly. possibly related to diet consisting of flat diet coke)
14:30 – Day seems to be going unusually well. Apart from the post it’s. Oh, and bleeding profusely from my poor mutilated toe. Finished essay, despite distractions of people calling asking “how many words now?”, and amusing links by msn buddies. Damn them. Have been coerced into Pizza Hut mission tonight. I can never afford pizza. (strange belly feeling grows, along with mild brain tingling. seemingly, inhaling all that washing powder was dumb).
14:36 – Trip to bathroom ends badly. Living with a group of completely socially retarded reprobates has resulted in a broken (yet well pissed on) toilet seat. Normally this wouldn’t bother me in the slightest. I’d give a hearty little chuckle and say “oh I only have to live here for 2 more weeks, those cheeky scamps”. Well, actually no I wouldn’t but…. *ahem* … After daring to sit on toilet seat, everything seems to go ok. Unusual “THUNK” noise followed by a strange sideways feeling told me that no, things weren’t ok. Then I smacked my head on the bastard wall as I fell from the toilet. Ow. I don’t want to die like Elvis. (strange belly feeling replaced with white hot rage directed at room 1 and its occupants. tingly brain feeling still there. Hmm.)
15:04 – Junk Mail. I go to University, why the bejesus do I want to study for a Home School Degree in extending my wang as it doesn’t satisfy my woman? (belly – rumble; fizz)
15:09 – Text message : from current boything. Insinuating I’m sex mad. Hmm.. is this possibly related to previous junk mail? Boy and evil Pakistani spam mail people in cahoots? Realise I have no wang, and give up on conspiracy theories. Also realise I don’t like the word wang. (belly feeling replaced with frantic panic that current bloke thinks I am massive tart. realise both feel similar… noticing a pattern here)
15:30 – Balamory! Yay!
(period of time missing) – time spent monging in front of pc, drooling into my lap and getting v annoyed at flatmates choice of music, i.e. one damn blink 182 song over and over again for 2 hrs…. (am feeling somewhat tense….cant be good….)
18:45 – Pizza Hut. Discover James has also won Booze Cruise. Decision is made to book both cruises for the same time. Am no longer thinking “yay booze cruise”. Casually wonder if there are sharks in the sea near
19:00 – Waiter has B.O. Cheesy nachos no longer seem so appetising.
19:07 – My nachos are burned. Dammit. James tells smug story. Vaguely avoid stabbing him with fork. (belly rears up in acidic display of hatred. sort of like Alien.)
19:43 – Phone Call : Dad. Demanding to know where my student loan has gone. Make feeble excuses about being outside with bad reception and lorries and sksksshshsshshshhs… no I cant quite sjskskshsshshssgsgsgsss./hhhhh…… sorry??? Skshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. Yeah call back later!!! Now feel slightly guilty. Am slightly cheered up by the thought of talking to boything when I get home. Yay.
20:05 – He’s not online. Bugger.
20:13 – Online! YAAAY!!! (belly feels happy and relaxed. aww).
21:17 – Have strange, deep, meaningful convo with boy. Since I’m going back home for summer, it appears we can’t have relationship. (stomach falls several floors and smacks some poor ground floor dweller in the cornflakes). Whine for best part of an hour. Also cry some, make vague hints at emotional blackmail. After approximately an hour of torture, am left with the promise of “We can see how it goes”. Due to loss of stomach am feeling somewhat hollow. Sort of like a bunny with no gooey caramel centre. Brain is no longer fizzing but emitting the occasional whine or grump.
22:32 – Realise cinema tickets on wall represent failed relationships. Descend into pit of despair and fear being eaten by chinchillas. Realise bondage kit blindfold will only ever be used as a sleeping mask. Although whip may prove handy for chinchillas…..
02:52 – I’m not entirely sure how I got here, time sure goes quick in the pit of despair. Which means I’m probably about 41 right now. Woo. At least I’ll get cheap car insurance. Anyway. I now feel sore, tired, pissed off at the universe and fate in general, and my eyes have shrivelled up, now resembling pickled walnuts. But not brown. I need some of that Eye Bath. Bah… This is where I would have a graph to depict how the day went downhill. But I don’t. Combining all the bad stuff that happened gave me a damn bad day. So go and find a steep hill, line it with razor blades, broken glass, used needles and delia smith cookery books, then throw yourself down it. That’s kinda how it went. Now I’m off to bed, to make a small fort and prepare myself to the onslaught of chinchillas…….