I awoke this morning in a bed that wasn't my own, next to a snoring Tom, in a room I didn't recognise, with a headache sent from the devil himself.
Good party, guys.
On the way home, the numbness that envelops my limbs during a hangover began to wear off and my knee, oh my knee, screamed in pain everytime it was touched.
Taking my tights off when I arrived at chez walker revealed why..
My knee is purple with fantastic green and slightly yellow tinges.
yum yum.
This bruise isn't any bruise. This is King Bruise. All other bruises, grazes, cuts and nicks hail to this bruise. This is their Messiah. Bruise Christ.
It bloody kills, and I'll be buggered if I know where it came from.
The past two times I've neared alcohol I've ended up with minor leg injuries. Last week, my legs were covered in tiny scratches and grazes and a fucking huuuge gash on my calf (sigh) and this week has left me with Jesus Bruise Christ.
Another thing that has happened in both alcohol infused situations is spewing.
I'd never been sick from drinking, no matter how much alcohol has passed my lips, until last week, and the same thing happened last night.
Now I'm sorry, but I'm going to be a bit vulgar now, because, well, it's necessary.
Last week's vom was luminous yellow. Thank you Fanta.
Last night's vom was bright pink. Thanks Ribena.
So it seems that I'm making my way across the colour spectrum through the means of sick.
Perhaps, if I'm sick next week, it'll be lime green. Highlighter orange. Navy blue.
'Cor, navy blue sick.
Nice.
anyway! I'm going to get into bed with a bowl of Weetos (Thank you mum, I love you) and watch Howl's Moving Castle.
T'rahh
X
Monday, 27 October 2008
Friday, 3 October 2008
Happy Birthday, This Morning
This Morning is 20 years old.
My gaaahd.
It's strange to think that it's just over two years older than me, it's the type of show that feels like it's been running forever but it only started in '88..
Makes me feel a bit old, really.
It was Tom's birthday the other week and he pointed out something that really struck me, something that's really obvious but you never really think about. This is the only chance you'll ever get to be the age you are. I only have two months left of being 17 and then that's it. No more 17 year old japes anymore. It's a bit mad, really, and ever so scary. In, like, twenty years, I'll be looking back and remembering being this age and probably wishing I could go back but, y'know, unless time travel has been invented then - which I sadly doubt - I'll have to remain a 37 year old.
Another strange thought: The BASS has closed down. Now, anyone reading this has no idea what/who the BASS is, so I shall explain. The BASS is the Baxter Avenue Suicide Squad. It is 'party house'. My brother's friends live there, and pretty much live the life all teens long for. They embody Skins. Usually my brother's social life would not affect me, but the habitants of the BASS were not just Alex's friends, but family friends. Jonesy used to come round for dinner and a spliff every Sunday (I know, I know) and we used to go to the BASS to some of the parties, although, me being the age I was, I used to mostly remain in the big bedroom watching The Simpsons, or playing Playstation games with stoned/drunk partygoers.
Good times.
However, most of the BASS are nearing their late twenties/early thirties and are moving out of 'party house' and into their own places. It's a sad sad day for Newcastle's social scene.
Back to me. I'm still ill, with whatever dreadful bug thing is plagueing Leonard's population (everyone is ill! everyone!) and that combined with a lovely migraine has ruined my week's plans. It is Friday, y'see, and that means Friday night. I need to go out tonight.
Need.
but being in the ill state I am, I don't know if that is going to happen. My mum is a hard one to persuade. Ahh man.
I really hope I can go out. I'm sick of being stuck in the house. I mean, yeah, I'm a fan of staying inside for a day or so but I can't deal with three days straight, and missing out on my Friday night. Aaaargh.
Anyway, I'm going to go have a bath, tidy my room in the hope that Tom's going to stay over tomorrow, and then start to mither my mum to let me go out.
t'rahhh
My gaaahd.
It's strange to think that it's just over two years older than me, it's the type of show that feels like it's been running forever but it only started in '88..
Makes me feel a bit old, really.
It was Tom's birthday the other week and he pointed out something that really struck me, something that's really obvious but you never really think about. This is the only chance you'll ever get to be the age you are. I only have two months left of being 17 and then that's it. No more 17 year old japes anymore. It's a bit mad, really, and ever so scary. In, like, twenty years, I'll be looking back and remembering being this age and probably wishing I could go back but, y'know, unless time travel has been invented then - which I sadly doubt - I'll have to remain a 37 year old.
Another strange thought: The BASS has closed down. Now, anyone reading this has no idea what/who the BASS is, so I shall explain. The BASS is the Baxter Avenue Suicide Squad. It is 'party house'. My brother's friends live there, and pretty much live the life all teens long for. They embody Skins. Usually my brother's social life would not affect me, but the habitants of the BASS were not just Alex's friends, but family friends. Jonesy used to come round for dinner and a spliff every Sunday (I know, I know) and we used to go to the BASS to some of the parties, although, me being the age I was, I used to mostly remain in the big bedroom watching The Simpsons, or playing Playstation games with stoned/drunk partygoers.
Good times.
However, most of the BASS are nearing their late twenties/early thirties and are moving out of 'party house' and into their own places. It's a sad sad day for Newcastle's social scene.
Back to me. I'm still ill, with whatever dreadful bug thing is plagueing Leonard's population (everyone is ill! everyone!) and that combined with a lovely migraine has ruined my week's plans. It is Friday, y'see, and that means Friday night. I need to go out tonight.
Need.
but being in the ill state I am, I don't know if that is going to happen. My mum is a hard one to persuade. Ahh man.
I really hope I can go out. I'm sick of being stuck in the house. I mean, yeah, I'm a fan of staying inside for a day or so but I can't deal with three days straight, and missing out on my Friday night. Aaaargh.
Anyway, I'm going to go have a bath, tidy my room in the hope that Tom's going to stay over tomorrow, and then start to mither my mum to let me go out.
t'rahhh
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Oh my good god.
I completely forgot I had this.
I've had an account on it for god knows how long, and I don't think I've bothered with it since I first got it.
Christ.
I was just going to comment good ahld Liz's blog (I was mentioned in it, and was v pleased) and the website was all "EEH HIYA THARAH THUE".
Well, y'know, maybe not to that extent, but, aye, you get the jist.
So many commas in that sentence. There's no real need, Sarah, leave the comma key alone.
Siiiiighhh.
Today I slept a whole bunch and did some politics homework. Now I'm lay in bed watching The Family. The kid in it is having trouble with bedtime. No idea what his name is, I want to say Derek, but I'm sure that's not it. Come onnnn, someone say his name : ||| Oh he's called Tom.
"We have a totally flopped out Tom"
"have a ride on the dad train"
Jesus, a ride on the dad train. That's possibly the best line ever. I'm so pleased.
That's better than when I was watching Supernanny last week and this little girl was having a tantrum, and screamed "I HATE MY BED, I HATE MY PILLOW, I WANT A POO"
Such a strange train of thoughts.
Anyway, I'll finish commenting Liz as I was previously doing, and then perhaps take myself off to bed as I'm positively shattered.
We have a totally flopped out Sarah.
I think I need a ride on the dad train.
xxxxx
I've had an account on it for god knows how long, and I don't think I've bothered with it since I first got it.
Christ.
I was just going to comment good ahld Liz's blog (I was mentioned in it, and was v pleased) and the website was all "EEH HIYA THARAH THUE".
Well, y'know, maybe not to that extent, but, aye, you get the jist.
So many commas in that sentence. There's no real need, Sarah, leave the comma key alone.
Siiiiighhh.
Today I slept a whole bunch and did some politics homework. Now I'm lay in bed watching The Family. The kid in it is having trouble with bedtime. No idea what his name is, I want to say Derek, but I'm sure that's not it. Come onnnn, someone say his name : ||| Oh he's called Tom.
"We have a totally flopped out Tom"
"have a ride on the dad train"
Jesus, a ride on the dad train. That's possibly the best line ever. I'm so pleased.
That's better than when I was watching Supernanny last week and this little girl was having a tantrum, and screamed "I HATE MY BED, I HATE MY PILLOW, I WANT A POO"
Such a strange train of thoughts.
Anyway, I'll finish commenting Liz as I was previously doing, and then perhaps take myself off to bed as I'm positively shattered.
We have a totally flopped out Sarah.
I think I need a ride on the dad train.
xxxxx
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