Today, my sister threw a cup at my head because she saw a spider in the sink.
Wow, it's been a long time. But I definitely want to get back into the swing of blogging once I'm more settled. The past few months have been an absolute nightmare.
Starting with results day. I opened up my envelope to find that I had got three Cs. This was was most alarming and what's more, pretty outrageous. I mean, I know I'm not exactly an A* achiever but come on! Three Cs? At the time, I thought something must be wrong, but when you're standing there, holding that brown envelope surrounded by people with their own brown envelopes, you kind of just accept what the brown envelope tells you.
And my brown envelope told me that I wasn't going to University.
But. as it turns out, UCAS is a giant whorehouse.
To cut to the chase, they 'redistributed' (completely fucked up) my results. So I did get in.
Since then my life has been a mix of late nights and formal looking letters piling up on the doorstep whilst I try to remember what my student account number is when I'm lying on a sun lounger in Lanzarote.
Lanzarote. That was a good holiday. It was probably one of the last holidays I'll be going on with my parents, which, frankly, is a fucking relief.
I'm not trying to be ungrateful, because the hotel was actually really really nice, and the island it beautiful if not slightly barren. But I'm sure you can all understand where I'm coming from. When you don't have the relief of texts or phonecalls or even msn to fellow human beings, things can get... tense.
I mean it's not like I was practically bouncing up and down in my plane seat waiting for the seatbelt signs to go off so I could grab my bag. bolt off the plane and finally get home to check my DeviantArt and Facebook....
I mean really, that's just pathetic.
Anyway, real blog later, right now I need a lemonade
Monday, 13 September 2010
Sunday, 4 July 2010
'you look tired'
*cough*
So, I haven't blogged in a while, and I've mainly put that down to exams and the fact that my computer went through a stage where it wouldn't let me type normally unless I had the 'Fn' button held down.
Hooray for Windows.
Anyway exams are over, and the 'Fn' problem randomly fixed itself, just like all things that quietly irritate you eventually do.
I've been quite busy over the past week, Wednesday I went over a friend's for a camping get together that was celebrating three birthdays. It was cracking, and I behaved myself this time by not getting utterly lashed and chundering everywah, unfortunately the same cannot be said for some people. I ended up staying up all night having one of those deep conversations with someone I was slightly uncomfortable with. Usually when I get uncomfortable I end up taking the piss excessively. Which, incidentally, is exactly what happened.
And then they ended up in a strop.
Honestly.
I felt phenomenally shit the next morning, so me and J staggered back to hers and crashed on her bed while vaguely aware that Peep Show was playing on her DVD player. For the whole day I was pretty much in a zombie-like stupor and ended up doing some really retarded things. For example making myself some toast, taking the butter out of the fridge, putting the toast in the fridge, and then staring at the butter for a good ten minutes before realising what I had donewrong.
Thursday night I had the best nights sleep evar, woke up at eight and packed enough for two days in London. Whilst in London I learnt how to navigate on the Tube, and spoke mainly in an Irish accent.
The Wireless Festival (at Hyde Park) was amazing, although we didn't see anyone particularly credible, I am not ashamed to say that P!nk fucking rules.
She got in a giant hamster ball and rolled all over the audience.
What.
After the Festival we staggered our way to the nearest MacDonalds and drank a bucket of Sprite before wandering around central London until we eventually found the Hostel we were staying at. During our wanderings we walked down a very long and eerily quiet alleyway, which obviously sparked hysterical comments from J such as 'Shit! Was that a pigeon? We're going to get bird-raped!'
The next day we met up with other friends and went to Gay Pride. Now, I'm not being homophobic or anything, but I was excessively uncomfortable. J buggered off before the parade started because she was an absolute numpty and left her washbag at the Hostel, so I ended up being the only straight person within a mile radius.
However, this clearly isn't obvious enough, because I did get 'chatted up' by a girl. 'Chatting up' meaning she just walked up to me and asked me if I was single. Honestly, if a guy did that to me I'd just tell him where to go.
After the parade we headed off to a Pride concert. I ended up having to listen to Same Difference while guarding the bags and writhing in agony with J. After three hours of playing make-sure-no-gays-steal-our-bags-while-we-go-and-have-fun we decided to bugger and get snacks because we were starving and not gay. So we really had no place there.
We caught the train home at 8:15pm and I got home at about 10:20pm, where I emptied all of my clothes into the washing basket and almost drowned myself in the shower before collapsing onto my bed.
Next week I'm off to an Art Exhibition at St Johns. I swear if they put up any of my art I will rip it down Bobby, because that is copyright dammit. I will somehow take it to court.
On Thursday J, SMBx, SHBx and I are off to Thorpe Park which I am so looking forward to, but for now I'm just having a few quiet days at home.
On an end note, why is it that some people feel so ridiculously inclined to inform you that you like like shit but euphemistically? By this I mean by saying to someone 'ooh you look tired', you might as well be saying 'bloody hell, you look like a sack of teletubby shit'.
It really pisses me off. I mean, what are you supposed to say to it? 'Thankyou'? 'I'm sorry'??
I usually respond with 'I am tired', to which they usually nod as if by this observation and analysis we have somehow reached the logical conclusion that I am, in fact, tired.
So, I haven't blogged in a while, and I've mainly put that down to exams and the fact that my computer went through a stage where it wouldn't let me type normally unless I had the 'Fn' button held down.
Hooray for Windows.
Anyway exams are over, and the 'Fn' problem randomly fixed itself, just like all things that quietly irritate you eventually do.
I've been quite busy over the past week, Wednesday I went over a friend's for a camping get together that was celebrating three birthdays. It was cracking, and I behaved myself this time by not getting utterly lashed and chundering everywah, unfortunately the same cannot be said for some people. I ended up staying up all night having one of those deep conversations with someone I was slightly uncomfortable with. Usually when I get uncomfortable I end up taking the piss excessively. Which, incidentally, is exactly what happened.
And then they ended up in a strop.
Honestly.
I felt phenomenally shit the next morning, so me and J staggered back to hers and crashed on her bed while vaguely aware that Peep Show was playing on her DVD player. For the whole day I was pretty much in a zombie-like stupor and ended up doing some really retarded things. For example making myself some toast, taking the butter out of the fridge, putting the toast in the fridge, and then staring at the butter for a good ten minutes before realising what I had donewrong.
Thursday night I had the best nights sleep evar, woke up at eight and packed enough for two days in London. Whilst in London I learnt how to navigate on the Tube, and spoke mainly in an Irish accent.
The Wireless Festival (at Hyde Park) was amazing, although we didn't see anyone particularly credible, I am not ashamed to say that P!nk fucking rules.
She got in a giant hamster ball and rolled all over the audience.
What.
After the Festival we staggered our way to the nearest MacDonalds and drank a bucket of Sprite before wandering around central London until we eventually found the Hostel we were staying at. During our wanderings we walked down a very long and eerily quiet alleyway, which obviously sparked hysterical comments from J such as 'Shit! Was that a pigeon? We're going to get bird-raped!'
The next day we met up with other friends and went to Gay Pride. Now, I'm not being homophobic or anything, but I was excessively uncomfortable. J buggered off before the parade started because she was an absolute numpty and left her washbag at the Hostel, so I ended up being the only straight person within a mile radius.
However, this clearly isn't obvious enough, because I did get 'chatted up' by a girl. 'Chatting up' meaning she just walked up to me and asked me if I was single. Honestly, if a guy did that to me I'd just tell him where to go.
After the parade we headed off to a Pride concert. I ended up having to listen to Same Difference while guarding the bags and writhing in agony with J. After three hours of playing make-sure-no-gays-steal-our-bags-while-we-go-and-have-fun we decided to bugger and get snacks because we were starving and not gay. So we really had no place there.
We caught the train home at 8:15pm and I got home at about 10:20pm, where I emptied all of my clothes into the washing basket and almost drowned myself in the shower before collapsing onto my bed.
Next week I'm off to an Art Exhibition at St Johns. I swear if they put up any of my art I will rip it down Bobby, because that is copyright dammit. I will somehow take it to court.
On Thursday J, SMBx, SHBx and I are off to Thorpe Park which I am so looking forward to, but for now I'm just having a few quiet days at home.
On an end note, why is it that some people feel so ridiculously inclined to inform you that you like like shit but euphemistically? By this I mean by saying to someone 'ooh you look tired', you might as well be saying 'bloody hell, you look like a sack of teletubby shit'.
It really pisses me off. I mean, what are you supposed to say to it? 'Thankyou'? 'I'm sorry'??
I usually respond with 'I am tired', to which they usually nod as if by this observation and analysis we have somehow reached the logical conclusion that I am, in fact, tired.
Thursday, 10 June 2010
There Will be Blood
Oh sweet Jesus.
I don't think I've been this pissed off... ever.
Right now, I should be at the Download Festival. Working, earning money, generally having fun.
But no. Apparently not.
I got up at eight this morning, had breakfast, made sure I had everything packed etc. and decided to play with my dog Phoebe. Which is pretty much normal, it's not like I suddenly decided to play see how any times I can kick my dog in the face... So I have no idea why she behaved like she did.
Basically, she had hold of one end of the toy sheep, I had the other, and suddenly she jumped up and bit my right index finger. Then as she landed, she didn't let go, and pretty much ripped off half the skin.
I haven't cried because of a physical injury in a long time, normally I just swear violently until it subsides. But this hurt so much I couldn't help it. Obviously I did it in a cool, hard way. It's not like I'm an utter pansy or anything.
After about five minutes it started bleeding at an alarming rate. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but my medical knowledge regarding gushing wounds is basically shove it under a tap until it stops and then maybe put a plaster on it. So I held my hand under a cold tap (not improving the pain) for about five minutes. But there was virtually no change so I grabbed a bit of tissue and wrapped it tightly around my finger and wandered around (still cursing) with my arm in the air for maybe fifteen minutes.
The first tissue lasted about ten seconds before it was completely covered in blood, and I got through maybe six before I started panicking slightly. Eventually I told my Step mum, who did that annoying 'Ohh, that looks nasty, run it under a tap for a bit and it will stop'. Obviously I'm not a total retard, so obviously I already tried that you IDIOT.
She finally (after about another half our of me almost bleeding all over her precious kitchen floor) agreed to take me to the doctors. Unfortunately when we got there he took one look at it and told us to go to the hospital. Oh, I'm such a nuisance aren't I? By this point I was actually pretty worried. It had been maybe a couple of hours since Phoebe bit me, and the bleeding was still showing no signs of stopping.
When we got there, I ran to the loos to get more tissues and she went to the reception. I had to answer some questions before they sent me to the 'minor injuries' department. Which was extremely annoying. And thanks to our fabulous free healthcare I had to sit in the waiting room for two and a half hours until I was called through. By this time, I was feeling a bit light-headed, although the bleeding had slowed, it was still fairly steady. The Doctor I got was a also profoundly irritating, I generally got the vibe that he was just bored and that I was wasting his time. I sat down on the plastic covered, metal framed hospital bed while he asked me what happened, how long ago and if I'd bothered to disinfect it. Well of course, because every average household contains animal disinfectant just incase one shreds off half the skin on your finger. A common injury, I'm sure.
Once I took off the tissues, he started paying more attention. 'Oh my, that is quite deep' Yes Mr Doctor man, very good, I can see you are highly qualified in this field. He said I didn't need stitches, so after he'd cleaned it up and disinfected it (which stung like a bitch by the way) he poured on this gluey clear stuff which he said would help it heal. He said I might have slight scarring, but I might get away with it. Then he wrapped it up in some nice bandages and sent me on my way. The Lady at the reception gave me some more gluey stuff to take home and said if the bleeding didn't stop in twenty four hours I should come back.
That's right, I'd have to bleeding constantly for a whole freaking day if I want another bandage.
By the time I got back home it was nearly six, and far too late to set off for Derby. Also, since I would have to work the whole three days with no excuse, it's definitely in the pipe-dream now.
I have never more wanted to slap a dog.
I don't think I've been this pissed off... ever.
Right now, I should be at the Download Festival. Working, earning money, generally having fun.
But no. Apparently not.
I got up at eight this morning, had breakfast, made sure I had everything packed etc. and decided to play with my dog Phoebe. Which is pretty much normal, it's not like I suddenly decided to play see how any times I can kick my dog in the face... So I have no idea why she behaved like she did.
Basically, she had hold of one end of the toy sheep, I had the other, and suddenly she jumped up and bit my right index finger. Then as she landed, she didn't let go, and pretty much ripped off half the skin.
I haven't cried because of a physical injury in a long time, normally I just swear violently until it subsides. But this hurt so much I couldn't help it. Obviously I did it in a cool, hard way. It's not like I'm an utter pansy or anything.
After about five minutes it started bleeding at an alarming rate. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but my medical knowledge regarding gushing wounds is basically shove it under a tap until it stops and then maybe put a plaster on it. So I held my hand under a cold tap (not improving the pain) for about five minutes. But there was virtually no change so I grabbed a bit of tissue and wrapped it tightly around my finger and wandered around (still cursing) with my arm in the air for maybe fifteen minutes.
The first tissue lasted about ten seconds before it was completely covered in blood, and I got through maybe six before I started panicking slightly. Eventually I told my Step mum, who did that annoying 'Ohh, that looks nasty, run it under a tap for a bit and it will stop'. Obviously I'm not a total retard, so obviously I already tried that you IDIOT.
She finally (after about another half our of me almost bleeding all over her precious kitchen floor) agreed to take me to the doctors. Unfortunately when we got there he took one look at it and told us to go to the hospital. Oh, I'm such a nuisance aren't I? By this point I was actually pretty worried. It had been maybe a couple of hours since Phoebe bit me, and the bleeding was still showing no signs of stopping.
When we got there, I ran to the loos to get more tissues and she went to the reception. I had to answer some questions before they sent me to the 'minor injuries' department. Which was extremely annoying. And thanks to our fabulous free healthcare I had to sit in the waiting room for two and a half hours until I was called through. By this time, I was feeling a bit light-headed, although the bleeding had slowed, it was still fairly steady. The Doctor I got was a also profoundly irritating, I generally got the vibe that he was just bored and that I was wasting his time. I sat down on the plastic covered, metal framed hospital bed while he asked me what happened, how long ago and if I'd bothered to disinfect it. Well of course, because every average household contains animal disinfectant just incase one shreds off half the skin on your finger. A common injury, I'm sure.
Once I took off the tissues, he started paying more attention. 'Oh my, that is quite deep' Yes Mr Doctor man, very good, I can see you are highly qualified in this field. He said I didn't need stitches, so after he'd cleaned it up and disinfected it (which stung like a bitch by the way) he poured on this gluey clear stuff which he said would help it heal. He said I might have slight scarring, but I might get away with it. Then he wrapped it up in some nice bandages and sent me on my way. The Lady at the reception gave me some more gluey stuff to take home and said if the bleeding didn't stop in twenty four hours I should come back.
That's right, I'd have to bleeding constantly for a whole freaking day if I want another bandage.
By the time I got back home it was nearly six, and far too late to set off for Derby. Also, since I would have to work the whole three days with no excuse, it's definitely in the pipe-dream now.
I have never more wanted to slap a dog.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
What is art? It's fucking over, that's what.
Well, that's it. I have finished my Art A-level.
Shit.
I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset. Probably a combination, I did feel slightly strange leaving the art room without my folder. And again on the bus when I had a slight panic attack because I thought Id' forgotten it.
I think overall, I'm looking forward to being able to draw whatever I want, whenever I want. As opposed to having to stick to a subject, making sure I do my artist research, experiment with media and finally link everything together before carefully explaining why I did it.
Well, that's one in the bag, as my Dad said this morning.
On a completely unrelated note, a couple of my friends went downtown the other week while Claire Perry was parading up and down the high street harrassing the innocent public. Of course she was far too important to introduce herself, so leaping out in front of them and exclaiming 'Hello! It's me! Got any questions?', seemed far more appropriate.
And professional.
And not at all arrogant.
But I suppose that encounter reflects the mentality of politics. It's like I was discussing with a friend just after the election, the whole thing is like some weird card game, where you have to play stratigically if you want your party to stand a chance. Because we're in such a Conservative area, our votes count for virtually nothing, and our best bet is to hope for a hung parliament. At least then the Lib Dems would get some say in the whole matter.
Anyway It's over with now, and hopefully we will end up with Tory/LibDem.
Also today me and J were in Azuza, and we came across possibly the most pathetic, heart-wrenchingly pityful picture of Gordon Brown ever (EVAR). It almost convinced me to change my political views it was that sad. He looked like a poor, lost, jowly, wrinkly puppy.
So to conclude: I should definitely get novelty nerd glasses
Shit.
I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset. Probably a combination, I did feel slightly strange leaving the art room without my folder. And again on the bus when I had a slight panic attack because I thought Id' forgotten it.
I think overall, I'm looking forward to being able to draw whatever I want, whenever I want. As opposed to having to stick to a subject, making sure I do my artist research, experiment with media and finally link everything together before carefully explaining why I did it.
Well, that's one in the bag, as my Dad said this morning.
On a completely unrelated note, a couple of my friends went downtown the other week while Claire Perry was parading up and down the high street harrassing the innocent public. Of course she was far too important to introduce herself, so leaping out in front of them and exclaiming 'Hello! It's me! Got any questions?', seemed far more appropriate.
And professional.
And not at all arrogant.
But I suppose that encounter reflects the mentality of politics. It's like I was discussing with a friend just after the election, the whole thing is like some weird card game, where you have to play stratigically if you want your party to stand a chance. Because we're in such a Conservative area, our votes count for virtually nothing, and our best bet is to hope for a hung parliament. At least then the Lib Dems would get some say in the whole matter.
Anyway It's over with now, and hopefully we will end up with Tory/LibDem.
Also today me and J were in Azuza, and we came across possibly the most pathetic, heart-wrenchingly pityful picture of Gordon Brown ever (EVAR). It almost convinced me to change my political views it was that sad. He looked like a poor, lost, jowly, wrinkly puppy.
So to conclude: I should definitely get novelty nerd glasses
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
'Bloody Bastards!'
To be honest, I've never thought that I was particularly good at expressing myself verbally.
I'm more of a physical person.
I'm more competitive at physical things.
Be it mud wrestling, blinking contests, arm wrestles... but especially drawing.
Drawing is something I'm truly hot headed about. If I'm going to be completely blunt, I would say I fucking rule at drawing, but it's one of the few things I'm genuinely good at.
So if I see someone who I precieve to be better at or even as good as me at drawing, I get very...
very
very
jealous.
Which is pathetic really.
The point is, my Art exam is this week. It's fifteen hours long, spread over three days, and it's actually quite fun. Although we aren't allowed to leave the room except for lunch and long break, and we're not allowed to eat or listen to music, it's still pretty fun. For my final piece, I'm doing an A2 sized drawing, just in pencil. Nothing fancy like charcoal (wooo).
Even so, I know I've been pretty snappy the past few weeks at certain people. So if I caught you with my extremely short fuse, don't take it personally.
It's probably due to the fact that I am kind of pressured to make amazing and magical things happen using only pencils, and until two days ago, I had literally NO IDEA what I was going to do in my exam. But I'm okay now. Might still look like a wreck tomorrow and the day after due to lingering cold and lack of sleep (ironically not due to stress, but to late nights watching Greenwing). So if you catch me motionless in a chair, I'm probably just napping, and not dead.
Also, is it just me or do everyone else's parents really latch on to any mistake you make once youve been accepted to university?
The other night for example, me and my Dad were dicussing accommodation. He asked me to bring down all the leaflets and information I had.
I forgot ONE booklet, and suddenly I won't be able to 'survive' at uni.
Or like that time I burnt a potato. Like, it wasn't even burnt. Slightly crispy.
WHICH IS HOW I LIKE IT.
If you do, for some reason, want to see my art: go here.
I'll warn you, it's not for the faint hearted.
I'm more of a physical person.
I'm more competitive at physical things.
Be it mud wrestling, blinking contests, arm wrestles... but especially drawing.
Drawing is something I'm truly hot headed about. If I'm going to be completely blunt, I would say I fucking rule at drawing, but it's one of the few things I'm genuinely good at.
So if I see someone who I precieve to be better at or even as good as me at drawing, I get very...
very
very
jealous.
Which is pathetic really.
The point is, my Art exam is this week. It's fifteen hours long, spread over three days, and it's actually quite fun. Although we aren't allowed to leave the room except for lunch and long break, and we're not allowed to eat or listen to music, it's still pretty fun. For my final piece, I'm doing an A2 sized drawing, just in pencil. Nothing fancy like charcoal (wooo).
Even so, I know I've been pretty snappy the past few weeks at certain people. So if I caught you with my extremely short fuse, don't take it personally.
It's probably due to the fact that I am kind of pressured to make amazing and magical things happen using only pencils, and until two days ago, I had literally NO IDEA what I was going to do in my exam. But I'm okay now. Might still look like a wreck tomorrow and the day after due to lingering cold and lack of sleep (ironically not due to stress, but to late nights watching Greenwing). So if you catch me motionless in a chair, I'm probably just napping, and not dead.
Also, is it just me or do everyone else's parents really latch on to any mistake you make once youve been accepted to university?
The other night for example, me and my Dad were dicussing accommodation. He asked me to bring down all the leaflets and information I had.
I forgot ONE booklet, and suddenly I won't be able to 'survive' at uni.
Or like that time I burnt a potato. Like, it wasn't even burnt. Slightly crispy.
WHICH IS HOW I LIKE IT.
If you do, for some reason, want to see my art: go here.
I'll warn you, it's not for the faint hearted.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
1755
Oh my gee! Only ten more posts until my 100th. What shall I do for it? A special thing? That appears to be all the rave.
Today in my Art lesson, my Art teacher said I have 'such talent'. Made my day. It's just nice to hear from him after he constantly goes on at me for not having enough ideas. It's not my fault if i feel repressed by the system.
I have learnt to play Faust Arp by Radiohead from the album In Rainbows. I'm very pleased with this, because it means that I can now play four songs from that album all the way through (Nude, Faust Arp, Reckoner and Jigsaw Falling Into Place) which I know doesn't sound like a lot, but they are pretty fucking hard.
Well, sort of. Two of them were hard to learn. I suppose that means I have to learn the whole album now. That's cool, I'm down with that.
Also today, in my English Language lesson, we were given a fun (read: not actually fun, I fooled you all) quiz. First question was 'when was the first version of the english dictionary published?'. I wrote down my answer, J wrote down hers. Then we exchanged a look of smug contentedness before nodding wisely. Like the wise owls we secretly are.
Today in my Art lesson, my Art teacher said I have 'such talent'. Made my day. It's just nice to hear from him after he constantly goes on at me for not having enough ideas. It's not my fault if i feel repressed by the system.
I have learnt to play Faust Arp by Radiohead from the album In Rainbows. I'm very pleased with this, because it means that I can now play four songs from that album all the way through (Nude, Faust Arp, Reckoner and Jigsaw Falling Into Place) which I know doesn't sound like a lot, but they are pretty fucking hard.
Well, sort of. Two of them were hard to learn. I suppose that means I have to learn the whole album now. That's cool, I'm down with that.
Also today, in my English Language lesson, we were given a fun (read: not actually fun, I fooled you all) quiz. First question was 'when was the first version of the english dictionary published?'. I wrote down my answer, J wrote down hers. Then we exchanged a look of smug contentedness before nodding wisely. Like the wise owls we secretly are.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
14 days of Procrastination
Once again, the last day of the holidays will be my most productive.
At the start of every half term, I always say to myself, 'This time, I'll do all my work straight away, I will not leave it to the last minute. Oh yes Bob, no mad rush at the end for me this time, I'm sidestepping that landmine...'
And yet here we are on the last day of the holidays at 11:16am and I still have two essays, endless amounts of Art, Psychology research and immediate revision for a timed English essay tomorrow.
But on the other foot, the weather has been most splendid for the past few days, and I have had a great holiday. Last Wednesday I met up with J and two other friends who we hadn't seen in a ridiculous amount of time (For the sake of tradition and continuity, I'll call them E and B). It was amazing to see them again, we hung around at J's for a bit eating jelly sweets before heading out to Pino's for a Pizza and drinks (actually, E ordered the pizza for himself, and despite complaints of feeling sick he ate most of it). When we got back we watched J's Michael Mcintyre DVD, while I tried to teach B how to make triangles out of Starburst wrappers. He was actually surprisingly good. He also said next time we meet up he'll bring his guitar and teach me to play Tender by Blur.
At the end of the night we all hugged goodbye with promises not to leave it to long before we next meet up.
Thursday I went round to a friend's with various people including SBHx. To summarise we basically played poker and poole and I stole everyones wine then kissed SBHx again.
To be fair, it was a Dare. But it's not like I need that excuse.
We soon ran out of ideas for Dares, so it turned into a very intimate game of Truths. Started off with things like 'If you could date/be stranded on an island with/ marry any celebrity, who would it be?'
For me, anyone who tried to ask that question only got as far as 'If you could marry any-' before I shouted 'John Simm'.
Serisouly guys. At least make it challenging.
It eventually turned to more personal inquiries. Which, I'm not going to mention unless I want to be un-followed by everyone who was there and reads this blog.
And also most of the guys who Follow me.
Well I suppose that's enough of a post to make up for the way I deprived you all of my blogging.
I'll try and get into the swing of it again. Soz.
At the start of every half term, I always say to myself, 'This time, I'll do all my work straight away, I will not leave it to the last minute. Oh yes Bob, no mad rush at the end for me this time, I'm sidestepping that landmine...'
And yet here we are on the last day of the holidays at 11:16am and I still have two essays, endless amounts of Art, Psychology research and immediate revision for a timed English essay tomorrow.
But on the other foot, the weather has been most splendid for the past few days, and I have had a great holiday. Last Wednesday I met up with J and two other friends who we hadn't seen in a ridiculous amount of time (For the sake of tradition and continuity, I'll call them E and B). It was amazing to see them again, we hung around at J's for a bit eating jelly sweets before heading out to Pino's for a Pizza and drinks (actually, E ordered the pizza for himself, and despite complaints of feeling sick he ate most of it). When we got back we watched J's Michael Mcintyre DVD, while I tried to teach B how to make triangles out of Starburst wrappers. He was actually surprisingly good. He also said next time we meet up he'll bring his guitar and teach me to play Tender by Blur.
At the end of the night we all hugged goodbye with promises not to leave it to long before we next meet up.
Thursday I went round to a friend's with various people including SBHx. To summarise we basically played poker and poole and I stole everyones wine then kissed SBHx again.
To be fair, it was a Dare. But it's not like I need that excuse.
We soon ran out of ideas for Dares, so it turned into a very intimate game of Truths. Started off with things like 'If you could date/be stranded on an island with/ marry any celebrity, who would it be?'
For me, anyone who tried to ask that question only got as far as 'If you could marry any-' before I shouted 'John Simm'.
Serisouly guys. At least make it challenging.
It eventually turned to more personal inquiries. Which, I'm not going to mention unless I want to be un-followed by everyone who was there and reads this blog.
And also most of the guys who Follow me.
Well I suppose that's enough of a post to make up for the way I deprived you all of my blogging.
I'll try and get into the swing of it again. Soz.
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