How did I go from having the upper hand, to being head over heels?
I hate living at home.
The only good thing about it is the money I’m saving. Literally every other thing about it pisses me off beyond physical belief. I’m tired of justifying my actions to my parents, informing my mother where I’m going / staying, fighting to watch something on TV other than ‘place in the sun’ or historical CRAP, trying to get two words out of my dad that don’t involve JOBS…
I also miss Birmingham, namely my best friend Victoria, like a constant ache in my heart.
I need a fresh start.
But I have no funds to get one.
Oh I love him I love him I love him…
I feel a bit shit today, probably as a result of the epic gig, a very late night and a very gross McDonalds last night.
Jimmy Eat World were absolutely brilliant. I’d forgotten how much I love seeing live music, I should really go to more shows. When I have a little more expendable income…
Tonight, we’re watching football at Daniel’s house as we do every Wednesday. Don’t really feel up for it today but I want to see the boy so I will go anyway, and probably regret it.
Mondays are always crap. This is not because I am back to work - I don’t have a job. It is because D spends Mondays at the gym and then with his family. As a result, I am pathetically melancholy and at a loose end for the entire 24 hours that is what I like to call Moronically Morose Monday. Last Monday I busied myself with friends, the Monday before that I busied myself with chores, but this Monday all I could summon up the energy for was a Gossip Girl marathon and my favourite pair of unattractive pyjamas.
It’s Christmas soon. Things he wants/needs:
- A dressing gown. Don’t ask me why, I think they’re old-mannish.
- An air fix model of some sort.
- Poco Rabanne aftershave.
- A new CD player for his car.
- A new MP3 player.
- A few pairs of Calvin Kleins.
- A Fred Perry wallet.
All of these things (aside from the top two embarrassing OAP/child presents) are completely out of my price range. I get something like £45 a week from the dole. Not really enough to fund my obsession with buying inordinate amounts of Crunchy Nut Clusters / talcum powder / gossip magazines and still have change for Christmas presents. No no no.
I looked online for some inexpensive, romantic gift ideas. The websites I found suggested a myriad of things which, for one reason or another, I am completely unable to do. For example:
- “Go for a picnic at night time. Lie on a blanket and look at the stars”
No. It is fricking freezing.
- “Light some candles, play some Sade and stick post-its throughout the house, telling him what you love about him”
… Bordering on vomit o’ clock. Maybe even five past vomit.
Maybe I’ll just get him some chocolate coins.
It’s definitely time for bed, I haven’t rambled this much in ages.
By the way I don’t find the play on words ‘Movember’ at all amusing and I really don’t bloody like facial hair on men. Or on anyone in general (I once had a female neighbour with more facial hair than my father, it was absolutely sickening). I wish people would refrain from posting pictures of their food-ridden pubey-looking moustache online so that it comes up and OFFENDS me in my news feed.
My father is a brat. Honestly, half the time he might as well be stamping his foot.
My brother and I were trying to have a conversation and he kept shouting over us because the bloody internet wasn’t working.
He bloody riles me something chronic.
I desperately need to move out. But I can’t, not for absolutely ages.
My operation went to plan, but I am in bloody agony. I can’t go anywhere or see anyone or do anything other than watch TV. Snore.
To make matters worse, Facebook isn’t letting me log in. Haha.
I love Luke a lot.