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Sunday, 2 September 2007 03:56 amWatching Sugar, We're Going Down just made me cry because I miss the band I fell in love with.
Another one bites the dust.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007 06:53 amAfter the loss of Chuck Chill-out, Kyle (soundguy) has just told us we might also lose Dirty.
He might be going home to be a daddy.
This makes me really sad, even though I totally understand why and I can't say I'm not relieved that he won't be target practice anymore. I was starting to wonder who'd draw the line now that Charlie is gone.
But still: one by one, guys... :(
He might be going home to be a daddy.
This makes me really sad, even though I totally understand why and I can't say I'm not relieved that he won't be target practice anymore. I was starting to wonder who'd draw the line now that Charlie is gone.
But still: one by one, guys... :(
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Thursday, 3 May 2007 12:53 pmYeah, so, I have a bunch of comedy stuff I was going to post but I've been feeling oddly miserable all day and I just can't be bothered.
I'd like to go home, now, please.
I'd like to go home, now, please.
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Sunday, 8 April 2007 07:59 pmI think I forgot to mention that I redesigned my LJ. I made this a few hours before the tour was pushed back and everyone freaked out. Kind of ironic, really.
Guh.
That pretty much sums up how I feel at the moment. I'm sitting on the back door step with my laptop, in my pyjamas and a hoodie, drinking coffee and feeling... emo. There's no other word for it, really.
The cat is hanging out with me.
I've found I can't take pictures with my phone because my hands shake too much and they all end up blurry, even though the shake is subtle enough not to matter, most of the time. I wish I could take a decent picture of the view. The sky is almost rainbow toned with the silhouettes of the budlia tree in our garden and the lime tree in the neighbour's looking black against them.
On the TV, Jeremy Clarkson is talking about the former car industry in Britain. Fuck that. He's no one without Hammond and May.
My laptop has been acting weird and blue screened on me, this morning. I don't think it has long left. Can't really afford a new one.
Oh - the cat just went off to find something less boring to do. I should get a dog.
Other than that, there are reasons for emo that some of you know and some of you don't - a general lack of certainty that bothers me more than it should. If you think you know what that is, don't mention it - this is an unfiltered post. I'd rather not deal with that one, yet.
I don't want to go back to work.
Guh.
That pretty much sums up how I feel at the moment. I'm sitting on the back door step with my laptop, in my pyjamas and a hoodie, drinking coffee and feeling... emo. There's no other word for it, really.
The cat is hanging out with me.
I've found I can't take pictures with my phone because my hands shake too much and they all end up blurry, even though the shake is subtle enough not to matter, most of the time. I wish I could take a decent picture of the view. The sky is almost rainbow toned with the silhouettes of the budlia tree in our garden and the lime tree in the neighbour's looking black against them.
On the TV, Jeremy Clarkson is talking about the former car industry in Britain. Fuck that. He's no one without Hammond and May.
My laptop has been acting weird and blue screened on me, this morning. I don't think it has long left. Can't really afford a new one.
Oh - the cat just went off to find something less boring to do. I should get a dog.
Other than that, there are reasons for emo that some of you know and some of you don't - a general lack of certainty that bothers me more than it should. If you think you know what that is, don't mention it - this is an unfiltered post. I'd rather not deal with that one, yet.
I don't want to go back to work.
I hated the Libertines.
From that very first article in NME, I hated them. I didn't like their music. I didn't like the things I read about them.
I would still like to stab Doherty in the face. Repeatedly.
But watching the video for Can't Stand Me Now (or whatever it's called), I feel really, really sad. The whole video is made to show - and it's not slash goggles, it's fucking deliberate - how completely devoted to each other they were. The mic-sharing moments where they're half a centimetre from kissing to the lingering looks they give each other, and the whole song itself... They actually just look totally in love.
And the one thing I ever heard about that band that stuck in my mind was that when they were doing the festivals, that last summer, after Pete was kicked out, they had to ban him from backstage before shows because "they knew if Carl saw him he'd be back in the band, just like that".
How fucking depressing that such a close relationship could be destroyed by something as heinous as fucking drugs.
*goes to cuddle Tricky and Petey and thanks fuck they're both straight edge*
From that very first article in NME, I hated them. I didn't like their music. I didn't like the things I read about them.
I would still like to stab Doherty in the face. Repeatedly.
But watching the video for Can't Stand Me Now (or whatever it's called), I feel really, really sad. The whole video is made to show - and it's not slash goggles, it's fucking deliberate - how completely devoted to each other they were. The mic-sharing moments where they're half a centimetre from kissing to the lingering looks they give each other, and the whole song itself... They actually just look totally in love.
And the one thing I ever heard about that band that stuck in my mind was that when they were doing the festivals, that last summer, after Pete was kicked out, they had to ban him from backstage before shows because "they knew if Carl saw him he'd be back in the band, just like that".
How fucking depressing that such a close relationship could be destroyed by something as heinous as fucking drugs.
*goes to cuddle Tricky and Petey and thanks fuck they're both straight edge*
Spooks, Nukes and... Emo.
Monday, 12 February 2007 07:51 pmSo. Stuff, then.
Went on a Paranormal Investigation on Saturday/Sunday at the Clink Prison museum. By a weird fluke, the curator was someone I remembered from primary school. It was very strange. I walked home with Steve, who used to be in the Gay Psychics thing with me and Ian (Steve was one of the team leaders on the day) and the walk back to Trafalgar Square was fricking bizarre.
While we were in there, it had rained enough for drains to flood. We walked back along Embankment and at one point distinctly heard the sound of footsteps running along wet pavement behind us. I turned around and there was no one there. We kept walking. As we got to Cleopatra's Needle we were talking casually, as psychics are wont to do, about the ghost stories associated with the area - in particular the naked man said to bolt across the road and launch himself into the Thames, where he's said to have drowned. Imagine the looks on our faces, then, as, just as we reached the western edge, there was a colossal splash.
Something like: O.O
It was one freaky-ass experience. Especially when we then we were shortly gifted with a thunderstorm.
Anyway: Ian just asked me to join them at Kelvedon Hatch, as a member of the team. He'd already acted as if I was a member of the group at The Clink - advising people to come to me to close down from the meditation we'd started with, if they needed to leave for any reason (I know fuck all about Chakras and hate meditation because I'm too restless, so that was a bit of a shock - I'd better do some reading up). Today he emailed me and said he loves my psychic drawing (read: my scribbling) and asked if I wanted to come along as a member of the team. They're trying to sort out transport, so I said yes.
I'm officially a Ghostbuster again. Well. I've got the bust, they've got the ghosts, so...
I wanted to go to Kelvedon Hatch when Ian first announced it. It's one scary-ass place, from what I've heard. It's where the country would have been run from if the world have come to nuclear war. During the contruction of the place, it's said that a man fell into the cement. He's still there. Or, what's left of him is. People have paid to spend a week living down there and not lasted a night. It's one scary-ass place... I don't know if I mentioned that. However, that's all I know about the place. I don't know whether to read up on it or not - I don't want to taint my perception of the place, but I don't want to go in blind. I'll think about it.
The other stuff I felt like mentioning was a realisation I came to yesterday, while considering the fact that Valentine's Day approaches apace... More depressing even than unrequited love at this time of year, is a life so fucking lonely than there isn't even anyone you want to send a card to.
Went on a Paranormal Investigation on Saturday/Sunday at the Clink Prison museum. By a weird fluke, the curator was someone I remembered from primary school. It was very strange. I walked home with Steve, who used to be in the Gay Psychics thing with me and Ian (Steve was one of the team leaders on the day) and the walk back to Trafalgar Square was fricking bizarre.
While we were in there, it had rained enough for drains to flood. We walked back along Embankment and at one point distinctly heard the sound of footsteps running along wet pavement behind us. I turned around and there was no one there. We kept walking. As we got to Cleopatra's Needle we were talking casually, as psychics are wont to do, about the ghost stories associated with the area - in particular the naked man said to bolt across the road and launch himself into the Thames, where he's said to have drowned. Imagine the looks on our faces, then, as, just as we reached the western edge, there was a colossal splash.
Something like: O.O
It was one freaky-ass experience. Especially when we then we were shortly gifted with a thunderstorm.
Anyway: Ian just asked me to join them at Kelvedon Hatch, as a member of the team. He'd already acted as if I was a member of the group at The Clink - advising people to come to me to close down from the meditation we'd started with, if they needed to leave for any reason (I know fuck all about Chakras and hate meditation because I'm too restless, so that was a bit of a shock - I'd better do some reading up). Today he emailed me and said he loves my psychic drawing (read: my scribbling) and asked if I wanted to come along as a member of the team. They're trying to sort out transport, so I said yes.
I'm officially a Ghostbuster again. Well. I've got the bust, they've got the ghosts, so...
I wanted to go to Kelvedon Hatch when Ian first announced it. It's one scary-ass place, from what I've heard. It's where the country would have been run from if the world have come to nuclear war. During the contruction of the place, it's said that a man fell into the cement. He's still there. Or, what's left of him is. People have paid to spend a week living down there and not lasted a night. It's one scary-ass place... I don't know if I mentioned that. However, that's all I know about the place. I don't know whether to read up on it or not - I don't want to taint my perception of the place, but I don't want to go in blind. I'll think about it.
The other stuff I felt like mentioning was a realisation I came to yesterday, while considering the fact that Valentine's Day approaches apace... More depressing even than unrequited love at this time of year, is a life so fucking lonely than there isn't even anyone you want to send a card to.
Thank God it's Over.
Sunday, 31 December 2006 02:15 pm2006, then: one of the worst years ever.
Yeah, I have a steady job, but that's about the only thing in normal-life that had anything going for it.
Early in the year, I thought it was going to be awesome. I got together with a girl who seemed to be perfect for me. That went tits up, and took my favourite fandom at the time with it - including a lot of people I considered friends.
My little brothers continued to be malicious little cunts and the w00bie I had a crush on at work had a whole bunch of crap happen to him, and he eventually left on very bad terms. I also got a tattoo of a maple leaf on my wrist, which is alright, but not perfect and still needs touching up.
The credit rating attached to the house I live in means I can't get a credit card or any loan - which, although I don't really need it, the former would be very useful for things like my holiday to Vancouver - the holiday which Julie and I should have gone on in October, but didn't because I was supposed to visit my crazy girlfriend in Florida.
I don't even count that as a relationship any more. "An episode to file under 'never try again'", you could say.
I was also called obese for the first time, despite having a 32" waist and averaging a size 14-16 (UK average), and being a perfectly normal height - but failed to go to the gym I've been paying for, because of my bad knee and the fact my breasts suffocate me every time I try to run. Oh yeah, and because the skinny women in lycra stare at me when I do the weights I was recommended because I'm abnormally strong, and can't control the light ones. There's nothing less motivating than the look on a skinny-girl's face as they think, "What the fuck are you doing, you fat lesbian?!"
I'm not even a dyke...
Joining the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
birls community revealed that I am quite possibly the only birl (tomboy, genderqueer, or butch lesbian more or less) who is single. *head desk* I hate being single as it is; knowing most people aren't sucks like a sucky thing.
This year, I have taken some half-decent pics of myself:
... but not until I got my second camera after the first one broke. My first MP3player that cost over £100 did, too. That was fun.
Except not.
And the pictures really only looked any good after I'd played with the contrast.
The psychic development group I joined, and was really, really enjoying because for the first time in my life I was actively progressing with this great, cumbersome 'ability' I've grown up with that allows things to scare the shit out of me (because watching dreams you've had unfold on the news three weeks later, hallucinating exploding planes, and regarding The Sixth Sense as a near-biopic of your life isn't fun, however much it seems like it should be) without any ability to control or channel them, went all to hell when Ian decided to move away from spiritual life.
My favourite charity basically closed its doors because they were receiving no donations, and the world at large revealed itself to be a selfish and uncaring place full of ABSOLUTE CUNTS.
Yeah, there were a couple of cool things in 2006 - Julie and I got in touch with CJ and TCO took a huge leap forward, thanks to his kindness. He turned out to be a really sweet chap (although I swear he thinks I'm just being friendly with him because of Joe; because you know that's so me, isn't it?) and it was a nice surprise to find that both Joe and Boyan are adorable, and not the complete wankers we expected.
And naturally, discovering the God-like Genuis that is Fall Out Boy is nice - as well as Stargate: Atlantis season three being much better than anticipated.
But I can't think of one lasting thing from 2006 that was really fucking awesome.
In 2007, I would just like things to go right, please.
Yeah, I have a steady job, but that's about the only thing in normal-life that had anything going for it.
Early in the year, I thought it was going to be awesome. I got together with a girl who seemed to be perfect for me. That went tits up, and took my favourite fandom at the time with it - including a lot of people I considered friends.
My little brothers continued to be malicious little cunts and the w00bie I had a crush on at work had a whole bunch of crap happen to him, and he eventually left on very bad terms. I also got a tattoo of a maple leaf on my wrist, which is alright, but not perfect and still needs touching up.
The credit rating attached to the house I live in means I can't get a credit card or any loan - which, although I don't really need it, the former would be very useful for things like my holiday to Vancouver - the holiday which Julie and I should have gone on in October, but didn't because I was supposed to visit my crazy girlfriend in Florida.
I don't even count that as a relationship any more. "An episode to file under 'never try again'", you could say.
I was also called obese for the first time, despite having a 32" waist and averaging a size 14-16 (UK average), and being a perfectly normal height - but failed to go to the gym I've been paying for, because of my bad knee and the fact my breasts suffocate me every time I try to run. Oh yeah, and because the skinny women in lycra stare at me when I do the weights I was recommended because I'm abnormally strong, and can't control the light ones. There's nothing less motivating than the look on a skinny-girl's face as they think, "What the fuck are you doing, you fat lesbian?!"
I'm not even a dyke...
Joining the
birls community revealed that I am quite possibly the only birl (tomboy, genderqueer, or butch lesbian more or less) who is single. *head desk* I hate being single as it is; knowing most people aren't sucks like a sucky thing.This year, I have taken some half-decent pics of myself:
... but not until I got my second camera after the first one broke. My first MP3player that cost over £100 did, too. That was fun.
Except not.
And the pictures really only looked any good after I'd played with the contrast.
The psychic development group I joined, and was really, really enjoying because for the first time in my life I was actively progressing with this great, cumbersome 'ability' I've grown up with that allows things to scare the shit out of me (because watching dreams you've had unfold on the news three weeks later, hallucinating exploding planes, and regarding The Sixth Sense as a near-biopic of your life isn't fun, however much it seems like it should be) without any ability to control or channel them, went all to hell when Ian decided to move away from spiritual life.
My favourite charity basically closed its doors because they were receiving no donations, and the world at large revealed itself to be a selfish and uncaring place full of ABSOLUTE CUNTS.
Yeah, there were a couple of cool things in 2006 - Julie and I got in touch with CJ and TCO took a huge leap forward, thanks to his kindness. He turned out to be a really sweet chap (although I swear he thinks I'm just being friendly with him because of Joe; because you know that's so me, isn't it?) and it was a nice surprise to find that both Joe and Boyan are adorable, and not the complete wankers we expected.
And naturally, discovering the God-like Genuis that is Fall Out Boy is nice - as well as Stargate: Atlantis season three being much better than anticipated.
But I can't think of one lasting thing from 2006 that was really fucking awesome.
In 2007, I would just like things to go right, please.
This sucks.
Monday, 27 November 2006 10:48 pmSo, I wanted to come home tonight and make a big thank you post for all the birthday wishes, and say what a great time I had, yesterday...
...but this evening has been one massive pile of fuckup and I just feel utterly miserable.
I had a crap time at Circle (not anything anyone did, just internal stuff); I think I really upset someone, but I don't know for sure and I just feel really paranoid and guilty; I feel like someone else is messing with me and if they are, I'll be really hurt; and then there's That Atlantis Rumour and it's making me so fucking miserable.
( Spoiler )
If you don't mind spoilers, and haven't seen it already - please go here and do what you can. For me.
I need to go and cry now.
...but this evening has been one massive pile of fuckup and I just feel utterly miserable.
I had a crap time at Circle (not anything anyone did, just internal stuff); I think I really upset someone, but I don't know for sure and I just feel really paranoid and guilty; I feel like someone else is messing with me and if they are, I'll be really hurt; and then there's That Atlantis Rumour and it's making me so fucking miserable.
( Spoiler )
If you don't mind spoilers, and haven't seen it already - please go here and do what you can. For me.
I need to go and cry now.
MY BIRTHDAY
Wednesday, 8 November 2006 10:37 pmWatching innocent Japanse people get nuked is not a wise thing to do on the day you find your w00bie has left his job.
It's really not. And I, therefore, am stupid.
I am also turning 24 on the last Sunday of the month. That would be 26th. I want to go to Loch Fyne for a late lunch 2pm-ish on the Sunday. If necessary, we can do a film after.
At a later date, I would also like to do Spamalot.
Who's coming?
It's really not. And I, therefore, am stupid.
I am also turning 24 on the last Sunday of the month. That would be 26th. I want to go to Loch Fyne for a late lunch 2pm-ish on the Sunday. If necessary, we can do a film after.
At a later date, I would also like to do Spamalot.
Who's coming?
I think we knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it any less gutting…
The core brief came round this morning, and Teh Pretteh is listed on it as a leaver in September. I think that's when his sick leave started.
I'm dead upset. He was so sweet and lovely and hoping that I'd get to bump into him, or that I'd find out he was back, was pretty much my motivation for turning up at work every day. Now I'm never going to see him again.
:*(
I'm going to miss him, even though we never really had a chance to get to know each other, really. Someone said to me, "You wouldn't have had a reaction like that when you first saw him if it didn't mean something". Yes. It meant I was going to be disappointed again. AGAIN.
When I first saw him it was literally like, "WOAH." He was so pretty, so exactly my 'type'… everyone liked him... and then there was the whole elbow frottage thing and the dorky 'OMGNOWIFEELSTUPID' grins when we were at the retirement presentation… I feel cheated.
I don't have much of an appetite, now, but I bought some chocolate anyway.
Just feel like crying, really.
The core brief came round this morning, and Teh Pretteh is listed on it as a leaver in September. I think that's when his sick leave started.
I'm dead upset. He was so sweet and lovely and hoping that I'd get to bump into him, or that I'd find out he was back, was pretty much my motivation for turning up at work every day. Now I'm never going to see him again.
:*(
I'm going to miss him, even though we never really had a chance to get to know each other, really. Someone said to me, "You wouldn't have had a reaction like that when you first saw him if it didn't mean something". Yes. It meant I was going to be disappointed again. AGAIN.
When I first saw him it was literally like, "WOAH." He was so pretty, so exactly my 'type'… everyone liked him... and then there was the whole elbow frottage thing and the dorky 'OMGNOWIFEELSTUPID' grins when we were at the retirement presentation… I feel cheated.
I don't have much of an appetite, now, but I bought some chocolate anyway.
Just feel like crying, really.
All these things I hate...
Friday, 6 October 2006 11:57 pmOn Friday (a week today), Julie is coming to visit for the weekend. It'll be nice to see each other, but it does also serve a purpose.
Three months after what happened with the RP, and my then 'girlfriend' (hah.), and how it destroyed Band of Brothers for us, we plan to watch the series together. For the first time in a quarter of a year.
At the time, we were watching it every single day, to some extent. Re-watching eps for details, or just because we loved them. I think I've seen Bastogne and The Breaking Point about fifty times each. Certain scenes, hundreds of times. I adore that series. The men it depicts are genuinely my heroes. I wear the jumpwings of the 101st Airborne (the chute and wings motif) on my jacket. Through the RP, I fell completely for the characters of Skip, Penk, Malark and [Tiny Wee Hero] Harry Welsh. In all sincerity, I loved that series.
But the break up of the RP really hurt. Really, really, really. I still get painful clenches in my stomach when I think about the way people behaved, and how shocking it was to be turned on by people who had been my confidantes when the 'girlfriend' was tormenting me with her behaviour (blanking me one minute, planning a future together the next).
As much as the RP had taken a turn for content which was completely against my sensibilities, I can't help but miss it, sometimes. It was a lot of fun when it was at its best. And it comprised most of the most active members of the fandom. So, these days, the only people Julie and I have to share our love of the series with, is each other.
But for all this time, both of us have been too hurt and angry at what happened to be able to.
And just now, while surfing the net with the TV on, I heard a voice I recognised without needing to look up, saying words I knew like the back of my hand. Buck Compton. Julie's boy. Replacements. A trailer for the series, which is being shown one of the academic channels.
It made me cry. I'm so afraid of finding I can never watch the series again without torturing myself with what happened. Because although I usually brave face it, what they did to me - and Julie - and how they got away with it, isn't something I can forget, forgive, or apparently get over.
I was just starting to trust people again. How I wish I'd never met them.
It's never going to be the same again.
Three months after what happened with the RP, and my then 'girlfriend' (hah.), and how it destroyed Band of Brothers for us, we plan to watch the series together. For the first time in a quarter of a year.
At the time, we were watching it every single day, to some extent. Re-watching eps for details, or just because we loved them. I think I've seen Bastogne and The Breaking Point about fifty times each. Certain scenes, hundreds of times. I adore that series. The men it depicts are genuinely my heroes. I wear the jumpwings of the 101st Airborne (the chute and wings motif) on my jacket. Through the RP, I fell completely for the characters of Skip, Penk, Malark and [Tiny Wee Hero] Harry Welsh. In all sincerity, I loved that series.
But the break up of the RP really hurt. Really, really, really. I still get painful clenches in my stomach when I think about the way people behaved, and how shocking it was to be turned on by people who had been my confidantes when the 'girlfriend' was tormenting me with her behaviour (blanking me one minute, planning a future together the next).
As much as the RP had taken a turn for content which was completely against my sensibilities, I can't help but miss it, sometimes. It was a lot of fun when it was at its best. And it comprised most of the most active members of the fandom. So, these days, the only people Julie and I have to share our love of the series with, is each other.
But for all this time, both of us have been too hurt and angry at what happened to be able to.
And just now, while surfing the net with the TV on, I heard a voice I recognised without needing to look up, saying words I knew like the back of my hand. Buck Compton. Julie's boy. Replacements. A trailer for the series, which is being shown one of the academic channels.
It made me cry. I'm so afraid of finding I can never watch the series again without torturing myself with what happened. Because although I usually brave face it, what they did to me - and Julie - and how they got away with it, isn't something I can forget, forgive, or apparently get over.
I was just starting to trust people again. How I wish I'd never met them.
It's never going to be the same again.
Probably medical TMI
Friday, 29 September 2006 12:16 am( So, yeah. My consultant turned out to be a dick. )
So yay. When I drop down dead, blame Dr. Theo Joseph of Whittington Hospital.
In other news, it's looking increasingly unlikely that I will ever seen The Pretteh again, and that makes me sad. He's one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He fucking made me gasp and think, "WOAH!" when I first saw him. Everyone you mention him to at work loves him. It sucks that everything has come about like this. I want the w00bie back!
Also, Crazy Bitch has started on about the internet, now. She's come in drunk, and thankfully Robert has been wrapped up in the argument, this time. I completely kept my cool while she raved and made stupid noises like a mad alcoholic. She refused to accept that sometimes modems and wireless routers just crash. That sometimes they go slow and need rebooting. That if no one knows she's downloading something and she's doing it without a download manager, when Telewest tell us to reboot and we do to double our bandwidth, we are not doing it deliberately to spite her.
I filled Robert in a bit on the background, and how various people have moved out primarily because of her and how you simply cannot 'just ignore' her when she's like that, because she'll keep coming back and digging and digging - and if what she wants it to watch the TV and you want to watch something that's already on, she will make a point of standing there bitching at you and making a noise so it's ruined.
She just also stood outside my door and made cooing noises at the cat, as if I fucking care. I buy her expensive cat food, yeah - but only because the poor bloody thing gets fed the cheapest, most horrific looking shit in the shop if I don't. It can't be good for her to be shut in a smallish bedroom while Mapie chain smokes, either - but that's where she is now. I like the cat, but I am not attached to the cat enough for childish behaviour like that to be anything other than pathetic.
She's heading out again, now. The cat gets a repreave. I was half expecting her to lock the router in her bedroom.
I just honestly do not know what to do with the woman. Aside from think up fantastic ways to dispose of the body - but I've seen CSI, I know I'd never get away with it... I'd just sat down to watch Dogma - which looked like it would be one of the new favourite films - and I missed so much of it I've just switched it off and come to bed. All because of Crazy Bitch.
She is honestly fucking bat shit. And now I'm going to have to buy a DVD. Another one to add to the fucking collection of Great Unwatched.
Seriously: can I have a new life, now, please?
ETA: Crying over potentially sinus-related problems make it worse, stupid.
So yay. When I drop down dead, blame Dr. Theo Joseph of Whittington Hospital.
In other news, it's looking increasingly unlikely that I will ever seen The Pretteh again, and that makes me sad. He's one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He fucking made me gasp and think, "WOAH!" when I first saw him. Everyone you mention him to at work loves him. It sucks that everything has come about like this. I want the w00bie back!
Also, Crazy Bitch has started on about the internet, now. She's come in drunk, and thankfully Robert has been wrapped up in the argument, this time. I completely kept my cool while she raved and made stupid noises like a mad alcoholic. She refused to accept that sometimes modems and wireless routers just crash. That sometimes they go slow and need rebooting. That if no one knows she's downloading something and she's doing it without a download manager, when Telewest tell us to reboot and we do to double our bandwidth, we are not doing it deliberately to spite her.
I filled Robert in a bit on the background, and how various people have moved out primarily because of her and how you simply cannot 'just ignore' her when she's like that, because she'll keep coming back and digging and digging - and if what she wants it to watch the TV and you want to watch something that's already on, she will make a point of standing there bitching at you and making a noise so it's ruined.
She just also stood outside my door and made cooing noises at the cat, as if I fucking care. I buy her expensive cat food, yeah - but only because the poor bloody thing gets fed the cheapest, most horrific looking shit in the shop if I don't. It can't be good for her to be shut in a smallish bedroom while Mapie chain smokes, either - but that's where she is now. I like the cat, but I am not attached to the cat enough for childish behaviour like that to be anything other than pathetic.
She's heading out again, now. The cat gets a repreave. I was half expecting her to lock the router in her bedroom.
I just honestly do not know what to do with the woman. Aside from think up fantastic ways to dispose of the body - but I've seen CSI, I know I'd never get away with it... I'd just sat down to watch Dogma - which looked like it would be one of the new favourite films - and I missed so much of it I've just switched it off and come to bed. All because of Crazy Bitch.
She is honestly fucking bat shit. And now I'm going to have to buy a DVD. Another one to add to the fucking collection of Great Unwatched.
Seriously: can I have a new life, now, please?
ETA: Crying over potentially sinus-related problems make it worse, stupid.