Now I'm too old. What? What? Can't hear you! What? Oh yeah! Uh-huh *nods* What?!!
I don't get nightclubs -I just don't. I went to O'Mallys last for a drink with some new friends. They said it was the place to go, and being the idiotically curious person I am, I agreed to go. You don't go to these places to talk, it seems. You go there to waste money on booze and scream your throat sore while trying to hold a simple conversation. This is the sort of place where you need to use Messenger or carry little emoticon cards. It just confused me, the whole thing, but it was fun to people watch. People are kinda stupid, but a lot of the female ones look fantastic.
Much to my shock, I found the place was sprinkled with people who I went to school with in 1988. 17 years! This is where they've been hiding. And you know what I found out? Once someone is a dickhead, they are always a dickhead. Oh oh, and this girl... one of the spunky ones who still looked spunky at 35 gave me a kiss and a hug. I'm sure she was aiming for the lips but I didn't know what to do. You know that whole 'greeting kiss that could be either cheek or lips'... it was awkward. I actually tried to get to the dancefloor but couldn't. I think it would take more confidence than I'll ever have to squeeze into a crowd of madly swaying 'dancers?' and get the jiggy on. I tried to go to the toilet later on as well. Ha, fat chance. I did line up for a while until the realisation hit me that there was no way I was going to be able to urinate knowing a crowd of men were lining up and waiting behind me. I had more chance urinating on the dance floor.
Oh, and I found out that nearly everyone else is successful apart from me. It's really depressing chatting to old school freinds (none of them were friends anyway in grade 12, I hated everyone). I spent way too many years building an ARK waiting for Jesus to return in some sort of fiery flood to actually think about life (that's my excuse anyway). I'm still secretly hoping for the world to end or go into some sort of major apocolyptic tribulation actually... that'd be something to see. Oh yeah, I bumped into a former church goer there too who was trying to share with me the basics of Quantum Physics. He had to scream a word into my ear every five seconds or so. I pretended to hear him and kept smiling and nodding. I have no idea what he was on about. He had been drunk for ten hours so was doing pretty well to expain the mysteries of the universe over a cover version of Tenacious D's 'Greatest song in the world'. Nice guy... mad as a hatter. Looks EXACTLY like Michael J Fox, but is getting sick of hearing that repeated.
MONDAY (today) "Warning READERS, this blog contains whinging"
It looked like it was going to be a rainy day today but it only ended up raining for about ten minutes. And guess when it rained for ten minutes? Oh, I knew when it was going to rain... I knew it would rain during the only part of Monday that I didn't want it to. 11.15 am. 11.15 AM! The only short part of the day that I get to myself to sit down without the classroom kids. Instead, I had the ratbags in a wet weather lunchroom break. Honestly, it seems like the weather is playing games with me. This isn't the first time either, and you can talk about mathematical cluster and chaos patterns that SEEM like coincidences happen at inopportune times, but i know BETTER!!!!
Yep Jo, it's time for another 'Woe is me' blog. On Sunday night as a friend was leaving, we were talking about flus and colds. I stupidly said that I've been feeling good for a few weeks and may have kicked this re-occurring sickness that seems to be plaguing this f**cked up year of mine. After she left, I had this feeling in my throat like I'd swallowed a stainless steel scouring pad. Then came the mucus. Bah... I think I might develop one of those OCDs soon where you are too scared to touch anything that hasn't been wiped or disinfected. I might even wash the bean bag cover down one day.
I had this OCD in high school (and still do a little) where I'd count the syllables in whatever I heard then scratch out the number on the skin just above the knees. Does anyone else scratch there? It's sort of a nice spot to scratch. Perhaps it's an erogenous zone. I used to count syllables very quickly on my hand and add words to them to make it a multiple of ten. I noticed Shakespeare wrote often in multiples of ten. I admired that, but hate bloody shakespeare... It's completely boring to me, but what the bleep do I know.