Friday Fairy Cakes

I just wrote a really long post and then accidentally deleted it when I was reading it through.

I am unspeakably cross. I am going to count to ten, take a deep breath, and then calmly throw my computer out of the window.

Or perhaps just start again. Shitsticks.

(Recently I tried to explain the word 'shitsticks' to Bec's French boyfriend [now ex] and found it rather tricky. "C'est comme... merde, avec, ou peut-etre sur, des batons. Tu comprends? Merdebatons? Oui?" Non, it turned out. I don't think that was the reason for the split.)

Appetizer
About how much money did you spend on gas this week?

Not a scrap. I use my trusty Oyster card for the (not-so-trusty) tube.

Soup
What is your favortite brand of toilet paper?

I don't know. I am not comfortable with this question. I am a lady, and we ladies do not discuss this sort of bodily function (my little sister is with me on this one, neither of us can talk about it.)

Salad
When was the last time you discovered something that you thought was pure genius?

I love scented candles. I only bought one for the first time a few weeks ago, but I am fairly sure that all my future bedrooms will smell of strawberry and papaya for ever and ever until the end of time/they stop making them (whichever comes first.)

Main Course
What is the least amount of sleep you can get by on per night?

My head goes all wrong if I don't get enough sleep. Around about eight hours is perfect. It has a serious impact on my mental state, to an extent that scares me. Last week I got about five hours every night for about six nights, and I have only just recovered from it. I think perhaps that's partly the reason my hormones have dropped so heavily upon my fragile little brain.

It wasn't always like this. In my university holidays I worked for a corporate events company, which ran events for companies and their staff. It was brilliant, that job, because I spent most of my time there instructing on quad bikes, honda pilots, hovercrafts, argocats (like mini-tanks) and all sorts of fantastic equipment. Water-based activity days, casino nights, race days. Perfect for a summer job. What made it even better was that, because we would often have to be on the field very early in the mornings, we would stay overnight in hotels or travel lodges the night before. Everyone who worked there was fun, friendly, energetic and very sociable. Up, basically, for some big nights out. So these early mornings were inevitably preceded by an hour or two of sleep and lots of drinking. There were week-long events where we would sleep a two hours, work for about thirteen, drink for five and then repeat, five days in a row. I loved it. I could cope with it, then, perhaps because I was stimulated there, because everyone was in the same boat and it turned into a bit of a joke. Instructing people how to drive a hovercraft on two hours of sleep! Hurray! Please don't die!

(I loved that job. I loved standing in front of groups of cocky thirty-something year old men who were showing off to their mates and telling them that, yes, you may have driven a quad bike before, sir, but unless you pay attention to me and the instructions and safety procedures I am about to tell you, you will not be driving one today. No, sir, I said pay attention to ME, not my breasts. All delivered with the sweetest of smiles, of course. I actually said the bit about the breasts more than once. I loved it.)


Dessert
June is a popular month for weddings. Do you know anyone who is getting married this month?

No. I don't think so.

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Today I am a bit less completely fucking insane. I am tired, because I went out last night and there was wine and some of it may have accidentally fallen into my mouth, but I am actually feeling brighter. I was crippled with the pain in the diodes in my left hand side this morning but I overdosed on Nurofen and am feeling better now.

The only slightly bad thing is that, because of slight drunkenness, my resolve not to do the self-harm thing weakened and I have more cuts on my arms. I know it's strange to type it so freely, but I feel that if I am honest about it and make myself own up when I do it, perhaps I won't do it next time. I know it hurts people, and that's why it's a bad thing. I am sorry, people I am hurting.

I plan on having a relaxing weekend, with sunshine, friends and beer. I need, as people said in the comments, to chill the fuck out. Next week is going to be quite hectic, as I'm meeting Janie-the-cello-lady on Wednesday, and recording some vocals for a track on Tuesday, and of course I have to work to earn my pitiful pennies and finalise everthing for rehearsals next weekend.

This weekend, however, I'm going to try to put everything out of my mind and pretend I'm a normal person. Relaxation sounds very appealing, I think I might give it a shot.