Friday 13 November 2009

Competition

Richard has been blogging more than me. I can't have this. I haven't been doing my OU work, either, which is worse. Work this afternoon. Work is getting better. Still not great, but I do have days where I enjoy what I'm doing. It's when I get home and remember all the little things I've done badly or not fast enough that I start to think I don't want to go back again. I wonder how long that's going to go on for.
As for the stupid pill. It was fine for a while (Richard even commented on how nice I was to be around, if you can believe that) apart from a little side effect that abolished the system of periods and instead established the 'whenever I fucking feel like it, you're having a Dolmio day' routine.

N.B: The Dolmio thing is Laura's joke, I can't take credit.
N.B: Dolmio is a fucking stupid word.

It did say in the leaflet that this might happen. So I waited patiently, and while I waited, I put some weight on, got some bad skin, and got GRUMPY. Not just grumpy. Outraged and emotional. Defensive. Ridiculous. At the moment, I am still functioning like an Italian restaurant, and I have a pizza face. But this is good. This means I have a very good reason to shove the implant up someone else's arse. (For the record, I am aware that this is not where they usually implant the implant.) It also means I've tried enough of the fuckers to demand something better, regardless of how much it costs the NHS. That's what I involuntarily wedge chunks out of my income for, is it not?

Dear me. The topic of my blog has become my battle with hormones.

Sorry about that.

Oh. I got 71 for my first creative writing TMA. Oh, yeah.
The heating is broken, the part for it cost about £90 including VAT and postage and all that shit. Don't even know whether that'll actually fix it.
We got some new (second-hand) sofas. We painted the dining room a lighter colour to avoid depression.

Oh yeah, it's been a while - I'm going to be a Godparent. That's right. And I've just finished reading The God Delusion. Oh, fucking yeah. I intend to smile sweetly in my white flowery dress (and red heels; I'm not sure how they'll go down) and answer all the questions and agree to look after Alfie's religious and spiritual wellbeing. But not mention that I haven't been christened, myself. And afterwards, present him with a massive encyclopedia, hopefully with a really fat section on evolution. And 'The Owl Who Was Afraid Of The Dark', because the dream catcher isn't working and he can't remember what his bad dreams are. Dolmio Laura said this would be the only legitimate time for me to wear wings. Fairy Godmother. I have a necklace on which is a heart with one wing, so that'll be a start. I might save them til later. I might make ALL the godparents wear them, that'd be fun. Richard wouldn't protest, but Shaun might...

Having burned myself in front of the gas fire, it's time to get dressed and walk this gurgling dog. She's being a dogfood snob because I've had homemade pizza for breakfast.

Have happy times. x