i don't care if the sun don't shine

What kind of tin pot organisation puts a summer party on a monday night? One awoke fully clothed this morning, clutching the remains of a rather dubious looking fried chicken burger (as though there's any other kind). One assumes it's originates from the dodgy shop at the end of the street that one usually holds one's breath whilst passing, in an attempt to avoid greasy stench. One does not feel so much up to the task of licking the boots of those infinitely more privileged than oneself today. One is hungover, grumpy and at the mercy of oddly flavoured regurgitations.

25 going on 12

If I was in grade 7 I would be SO cool right now. Aside from the fact that for once in my life I would be the most *ahem* developed of my friends; BPP just picked up at the roller rink. Yeah baby, love on 8 wheels.

A mate convinced me to go with him to a roller disco at Kings Cross on Friday night and amongst the tight pants, sweat-bands and tube tops, I found a sk8terboi (or however Avril spells it) to call my very own.

We held hands, played tag, shared a lemonade (and bacardi), he told me I had pretty eyes, I told him he was really strong, he walked me to the tube, I wrote my number on his hand and he called later to make sure I got home ok– it was just dreamy. Unfortunately not sure the ‘relationship’ will survive outside the rarified atmosphere of the roller rink, which means another bloody ‘it’s not you it’s me’ conversation in the near future. Oh to actually be 12! My best friend could’ve taken care of that tedious task at little lunch and I’d be left free to pursue other things… like ridiculously hoping Mr. Disaster Waiting to Happen will call.

Love Island

... is the new religion in our house. Hardly surprising, yet still disappointing. Why is this the one program we all seem to be able to watch together? Mindless, soul-sucking, televised shite shouldn't be a bonding experience - it's barely an experience.

Sadly, it's also the closest I've seen any of my boys come to expressing emotion. When that Jackass dude showed up, I swear 2 of them actually shed quiet tears of joy... which is why I can't WAIT until tonight when THIS is sprung on them. Waa ha ha ha!

Ok, I promise never to speak of this again.

the best things in life are put on credit

I live paycheck to paycheck. Recent budgetary ineptitude has enlightened me to the fact that this is not so cool. My dreams of becoming a multimillionaire slacker by the time I hit 30 seem suddenly doomed to failure.

Anyway, brainstorming ways to raise £750 by the end of this week. My options at present are as follows:

Medical Trials - a third eye could come in handy.
Busking - think a lot of people would pay good money to see me sing my way through the My Fair Lady repertoirer... dressed as a pirate (and why not).
Life of Crime - nothing big of course, just your stock standard white collar stuff - skim a little off work petty cash, deal a bit of e to friends, pick pocket a few drunks on a Friday night, set up a sweat shop exploiting the local immigrant population, etc., etc.
Prostitution - famously worked very well for Ms. Roberts... and Paris Hilton.
Second (legal) Job - ha! see, even in the midst of all my anguish I can still make jokes.
Grovel - ouch, this one hurts... 'cause we all know that's what it's going to come down to.

Money, that's what I want.

Why?

That's all I want to know. Why did I have to be sweaty? Why did I have to be out of breath? Why did my hair have to be flat? Why did I have to be wearing the same crumpled shirt I'd been schlepping around dusty Spain in all morning? Why did I have to be insanely tired? Why must I insist on babbling like the village idiot when I'm flustered? Why didn't I put on some mascara before I left the house? Why do we have to share a tube station? Why did he have to look better than I remembered? Why didn't he mention the drink he invited me out for not 7 days before? Why oh why do I care?

Lots of 'why's' lately and a notable lack of corresponding lightbulb moments.