So, you know
When you read all that bullshit in trashy romance novels about spinning heads, shortness of breath and butterflies in your stomach when you kiss that one person who, with just a look, can make you feel like your heart is wearing a big furry coat. Or can make concentrating on anything but them very, very difficult indeed. Or can make your day a whole lot better just because they're sitting there. But not because of any amazing reason in particular; just because they are that person. Just because they are that person is enough to baffle you into wanting to hold their hand forever.
You know the bullshit I mean?
Yeah, turns out; it's only like, 40% bullshit.
The rest is pretty accurate.
Monday, 13 December 2010
Friday, 26 November 2010
Gushings
The past week has led me to question my relationship with alcohol.
I mean, obviously I'm not giving it up. That would be insane.
But I really must learn to control myself. I'm not exactly what you call a heavy weight, three Strongbows will see me pretty friendly. Which is perhaps one of the downsides, the friendliness. It has lead me to regret a few things to say the least. It has definitely made looking certain people in the eye an awkward event.
Anyway, I made the mistake of forgetting to re-read my last post, so I have no idea where I was on introductions, but I'm pretty sure I was just going to carry on with the flat below.
So we have Emily, Sarah, Helena, Rebecca, Robert and Max.
Most of them are very beautiful people, the only ones which I would say are perhaps a slight exception would be Rebecca and Rob. Mostly with Rebecca it's the general lack of personal hygiene and respect of other people's personal space. Not a great combo. (Also it is the ridiculous way she insists on spelling her name: 'Rebekah', I mean, really?)
And Rob, well... It's quite difficult to put into words how bizarre and annoying and sometimes actually a bit scary he is. He apparently has a form of Asperges, but recently he has been claiming that he 'gave himself Asperges', so most of his sympathy points have evaporated right there.
Anyway, to the beautiful people.
Sarah is just a purely lovely person. She is painfully funny, and has a great sense of fashion, plus a great taste in music. She is maybe my favorite person here, but it's a close call. What I like about her is her sincerity. She truly seems to care about people, and if I ever feel I need to talk to someone I know she'll be there.
Emily is a bit like Andrew, always full of energy, always laughing, which is probably why they're going out. I think she's been having a bit of a tough time recently, but she won't tell. Despite this, she is brilliant at lifting the mood. She is very pretty in an effortless kind of way, and she, like Sarah, is always there if I need her.
Helena is Spanish, and unspeakably beautiful. She is kind of quiet, but at the same time very lively. You can't help but notice her. Her English is very good, but she still has a very thick accent, and she is constantly writing down English terms of phrase to learn on sticky notes. Then she practices them with an excellent amount of enthusiasm. It is really very sweet.
Max, like Sarah, is one of the few genuinely lovely people I have met. At the moment, I think he has a lot on his mind. Which is not convenient for him, because he really takes things to heart. But whenever I see him upset it just breaks my heart. He tends to over analyse and worry about things more than the average person. I mean he practically had a nervous breakdown when he got a nosebleed, because he'd never had one before. He's very funny, and very sweet, and if you haven't picked it up yet, I fancy the pants off him.
PEACE!
I mean, obviously I'm not giving it up. That would be insane.
But I really must learn to control myself. I'm not exactly what you call a heavy weight, three Strongbows will see me pretty friendly. Which is perhaps one of the downsides, the friendliness. It has lead me to regret a few things to say the least. It has definitely made looking certain people in the eye an awkward event.
Anyway, I made the mistake of forgetting to re-read my last post, so I have no idea where I was on introductions, but I'm pretty sure I was just going to carry on with the flat below.
So we have Emily, Sarah, Helena, Rebecca, Robert and Max.
Most of them are very beautiful people, the only ones which I would say are perhaps a slight exception would be Rebecca and Rob. Mostly with Rebecca it's the general lack of personal hygiene and respect of other people's personal space. Not a great combo. (Also it is the ridiculous way she insists on spelling her name: 'Rebekah', I mean, really?)
And Rob, well... It's quite difficult to put into words how bizarre and annoying and sometimes actually a bit scary he is. He apparently has a form of Asperges, but recently he has been claiming that he 'gave himself Asperges', so most of his sympathy points have evaporated right there.
Anyway, to the beautiful people.
Sarah is just a purely lovely person. She is painfully funny, and has a great sense of fashion, plus a great taste in music. She is maybe my favorite person here, but it's a close call. What I like about her is her sincerity. She truly seems to care about people, and if I ever feel I need to talk to someone I know she'll be there.
Emily is a bit like Andrew, always full of energy, always laughing, which is probably why they're going out. I think she's been having a bit of a tough time recently, but she won't tell. Despite this, she is brilliant at lifting the mood. She is very pretty in an effortless kind of way, and she, like Sarah, is always there if I need her.
Helena is Spanish, and unspeakably beautiful. She is kind of quiet, but at the same time very lively. You can't help but notice her. Her English is very good, but she still has a very thick accent, and she is constantly writing down English terms of phrase to learn on sticky notes. Then she practices them with an excellent amount of enthusiasm. It is really very sweet.
Max, like Sarah, is one of the few genuinely lovely people I have met. At the moment, I think he has a lot on his mind. Which is not convenient for him, because he really takes things to heart. But whenever I see him upset it just breaks my heart. He tends to over analyse and worry about things more than the average person. I mean he practically had a nervous breakdown when he got a nosebleed, because he'd never had one before. He's very funny, and very sweet, and if you haven't picked it up yet, I fancy the pants off him.
PEACE!
Monday, 8 November 2010
Sums
Well, it has been a while. I know the last time |I blogged it was filled with promises of regular posts and updates... Well...
To be fair, I only recently got my internet sorted. Although at the moment i'm actually sitting in Birmingham University Library waiting for Jo to come out of her seminar. Oh yeah, that's another thing; I've stopped 'censoring' names now, just think it's a bit pointless is all.
Anyway, been at University for about five or six weeks now, and I can honestly say they've been some of the best times of my life. I was unspeakably nervous when we were driving up to Coventry. I can't really pin point why, generally worried about how my flatmates were going to turn out, whether I'd be able to cope cooking and navigating by myself. My Dad started blubbing when he finally said goodbye, and I ended up styuffing him out the door and down the stairs whilst trying to maintain my sympathy. He called later and asked what I was going to have for tea. I said probably pasta and he started crying again.
The first person I met properly was Taijal. We instanly got on really well, and had a long getting-to-know-each-other chat before she had to leave to meet with her boyfriend. She's very small, and very pretty. Her Mum has no idea that she has a boyfriend of nearly a year, because shes hindu. Apparently they frown upon realtionships unless they're sure they're going to marry.
Andrew was the nest person I met. My first impression was basically just a normal bloke, he seemed polite and friendly. I was wrong. He is probably one of the most excitable people I have ever met. He literally has no chilled mode, he's constanly jumping about or singing or offering me 'sexual favours'. Most of the time I politely decline. Most of the time.
In all seriousness, he has a girlfriend and he is definitely not my type.
My last flatmate is Joe. This is quite an amusing story, because we oringinally thought it was just going to be us three after we were informed that the fourth person had pulled out at the last minute. Room D became the mystery room, we always used to knock on it just to see if anyone was in there. One night we came back from the Freshers bar crawl and could smell somethintg in the flat, it smelt like faint cigarette smoke, but we had no idea how it could've got there as we're in a non-smoking flat. We knocked on Room D for a few minutes, but there was no answer.
the next morning as we were about to leave for an induction lecture, Taijal knocked on the door of room D with her umbrella. She giggled, no one expected any answer, it was quite literally for the lols. However suddenly the door swung open and Joe was standing there with a slightly belwildered expression. probably because all three of us were standing in front of him gawping and pointing.
The flat below ours has six people living in it. I'll blog about them another time, because this is already getting a bit long. All I'll say is, they are some pretty awesome people, and I can't believe my luck that I've met them. We get along very well, and are constatnly in and out of each other's flats. most of the time if we don't feel like going out, we all grab our duvets and lug them downstairs (they have more sofas) then snuggle up in our PJs and watch DVDs.
Life here has been pretty hectic. I can barely remember Fresher's week (apart from the Foam party. A painfully vivid memory [pah ha inside joke]) but nights out here are always great, my favourite so far has deiniftely been Hallowe'en night. It was just too epic.
Something else that has surprised me is that I never miss home. I went back a few weeks ago, and apart from catching up with friends, I was mercilessly bored. Also, somethings at home I feel I should probably just let go of, even if I don't particularly want to. I found myself missing Uni when I was home. Even now I miss my flatmates, and I've only been away for about twenty hours. Bizarre!
So there you go, if you've read this far very well done, gold star for you. But as luck has it, I have to go meet Jo and sort out train tickets for Coventry. At the moment I'm visiting her, and I managed to persuade her to come back to Cov to meet everyone.
I will strive to be a better blogger, peace out and all that!
To be fair, I only recently got my internet sorted. Although at the moment i'm actually sitting in Birmingham University Library waiting for Jo to come out of her seminar. Oh yeah, that's another thing; I've stopped 'censoring' names now, just think it's a bit pointless is all.
Anyway, been at University for about five or six weeks now, and I can honestly say they've been some of the best times of my life. I was unspeakably nervous when we were driving up to Coventry. I can't really pin point why, generally worried about how my flatmates were going to turn out, whether I'd be able to cope cooking and navigating by myself. My Dad started blubbing when he finally said goodbye, and I ended up styuffing him out the door and down the stairs whilst trying to maintain my sympathy. He called later and asked what I was going to have for tea. I said probably pasta and he started crying again.
The first person I met properly was Taijal. We instanly got on really well, and had a long getting-to-know-each-other chat before she had to leave to meet with her boyfriend. She's very small, and very pretty. Her Mum has no idea that she has a boyfriend of nearly a year, because shes hindu. Apparently they frown upon realtionships unless they're sure they're going to marry.
Andrew was the nest person I met. My first impression was basically just a normal bloke, he seemed polite and friendly. I was wrong. He is probably one of the most excitable people I have ever met. He literally has no chilled mode, he's constanly jumping about or singing or offering me 'sexual favours'. Most of the time I politely decline. Most of the time.
In all seriousness, he has a girlfriend and he is definitely not my type.
My last flatmate is Joe. This is quite an amusing story, because we oringinally thought it was just going to be us three after we were informed that the fourth person had pulled out at the last minute. Room D became the mystery room, we always used to knock on it just to see if anyone was in there. One night we came back from the Freshers bar crawl and could smell somethintg in the flat, it smelt like faint cigarette smoke, but we had no idea how it could've got there as we're in a non-smoking flat. We knocked on Room D for a few minutes, but there was no answer.
the next morning as we were about to leave for an induction lecture, Taijal knocked on the door of room D with her umbrella. She giggled, no one expected any answer, it was quite literally for the lols. However suddenly the door swung open and Joe was standing there with a slightly belwildered expression. probably because all three of us were standing in front of him gawping and pointing.
The flat below ours has six people living in it. I'll blog about them another time, because this is already getting a bit long. All I'll say is, they are some pretty awesome people, and I can't believe my luck that I've met them. We get along very well, and are constatnly in and out of each other's flats. most of the time if we don't feel like going out, we all grab our duvets and lug them downstairs (they have more sofas) then snuggle up in our PJs and watch DVDs.
Life here has been pretty hectic. I can barely remember Fresher's week (apart from the Foam party. A painfully vivid memory [pah ha inside joke]) but nights out here are always great, my favourite so far has deiniftely been Hallowe'en night. It was just too epic.
Something else that has surprised me is that I never miss home. I went back a few weeks ago, and apart from catching up with friends, I was mercilessly bored. Also, somethings at home I feel I should probably just let go of, even if I don't particularly want to. I found myself missing Uni when I was home. Even now I miss my flatmates, and I've only been away for about twenty hours. Bizarre!
So there you go, if you've read this far very well done, gold star for you. But as luck has it, I have to go meet Jo and sort out train tickets for Coventry. At the moment I'm visiting her, and I managed to persuade her to come back to Cov to meet everyone.
I will strive to be a better blogger, peace out and all that!
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
A Curious Incident...
The last time I saw them was yesterday 'morning' (at about eleven thirty) when I was having my breakfast.
Today when I woke up and went downstairs, I opened the kitchen cupboard to find that they had mysteriously disappeared. Funnily enough, I thought it was odd, but dismissed it as a human error. After all, I had thought that they were full the last time I checked, but maybe I had been wrong.
A few hours later I went downstairs into the kitchen again to make lunch. My Step-mum was sitting at the table eating a banana. Immediately she asked me:
'Do you know where the Jaffa Cakes have gone?'
I told her that I didn't and that the same thought had been going through my head since yesterday morning when I'd last seen them, when there had appeared to be a full box, and about the mysterious disappearance this morning.
I could tell she didn't believe me. We discussed some pretty feeble theories.
'Maybe Dad took them to work?' (a whole box of Jaffa Cakes to work? Unlikely)
'Maybe your sister took them? Does she having cooking today?' (Woman, please. Do you hear yourself? Why the fuck would you need Jaffa Cakes for cooking?!)
'Do you think the dogs could have got at them?' (of course, if they had somehow learnt how to open the cupboard, reach in and grab the box without disturbing anything else, open the box, snaffle the Jaffas [and nothing else] and dispose of the evidence without anybody noticing the whole bizarre ordeal then yes, that is entirely plausible. You know, it's no wonder you're an estate agent)
I will of course be reporting back once I know more on the subject. But the whole thing is toeing that interesting and incredibly fine line of amusing and unspeakably horrifying.
Today when I woke up and went downstairs, I opened the kitchen cupboard to find that they had mysteriously disappeared. Funnily enough, I thought it was odd, but dismissed it as a human error. After all, I had thought that they were full the last time I checked, but maybe I had been wrong.
A few hours later I went downstairs into the kitchen again to make lunch. My Step-mum was sitting at the table eating a banana. Immediately she asked me:
'Do you know where the Jaffa Cakes have gone?'
I told her that I didn't and that the same thought had been going through my head since yesterday morning when I'd last seen them, when there had appeared to be a full box, and about the mysterious disappearance this morning.
I could tell she didn't believe me. We discussed some pretty feeble theories.
'Maybe Dad took them to work?' (a whole box of Jaffa Cakes to work? Unlikely)
'Maybe your sister took them? Does she having cooking today?' (Woman, please. Do you hear yourself? Why the fuck would you need Jaffa Cakes for cooking?!)
'Do you think the dogs could have got at them?' (of course, if they had somehow learnt how to open the cupboard, reach in and grab the box without disturbing anything else, open the box, snaffle the Jaffas [and nothing else] and dispose of the evidence without anybody noticing the whole bizarre ordeal then yes, that is entirely plausible. You know, it's no wonder you're an estate agent)
I will of course be reporting back once I know more on the subject. But the whole thing is toeing that interesting and incredibly fine line of amusing and unspeakably horrifying.
Monday, 13 September 2010
Quick Catch up
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
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
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.
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