Monday, 21 November 2011


I finished my course (and by "finished" I mean "completed" [and by "completed" I mean "passed" {and by "passed" I actually mean, "everyone passed", so it's not exactly that special, but I still finished!}]), and I was all up for a weekend of resting - "resting" in this case probably being defined as turning the radiators from "off" to "bastard", lying on my back and masturbating myself to sleep, thus staying prone for two days in a decadent haze of slumber, soft porn and Final Fantasy: Mystic Quest. That didn't exactly go to plan as my mother decided that she'd wake me up at 9am on Saturday morning to tell me that I should be looking for jobs.

On a Saturday.
In the run-up to Christmas.
With a qualification that I only got told I'd be getting within the next two months the day beforehand.

As you can imagine, I wasn't best pleased, and so I went downstairs to complain negotiate with Dad, while the cat looked on disdainfully. In order to clarify what happened during this conversation, I'll transcribe it using language that felicitous youth might understand.

ILB: "Yo dawg, what'up?"
Dad: "What'up, G-money?"
ILB: "Yo woman is well up in my case, innit? She like getawp an'stuff."
Dad: "You gotta get a job, innit, blud?"
ILB: "Standard. It's just, I'm hella tired, djagetme?"
Dad: "D'ya for real, gee?"
ILB: "Totes."
Dad: "Okay, coolcat, ya go rest ya' heed, yo."
ILB: "Pizzahut!"
Willow: "I'm a cat."

However, before I could actually do much, I was unexpectedly on a train to Kent. 47 had organised a house party and I was there for some reason. People set fire to things and I sat there unable to eat most of the food. We ended up playing the new Kirby game on the Wii, which is incredible, watching Super Mario Bros. cartoons and getting to sleep at about 3am. 47 also talked about his cock for some reason. I can't even begin to fathom what the reason was.

I was dangerously close to getting the rest that I so desired when I was awoken by 47 with a desire to go to church, which I did (his church, not mine). I then leaned back on the passenger chair in his car as he drove to London... picking up a drum kit on the way to my house.

Yes, really.

By this time I was somewhere between delirious and the beginning stages of a coma, and I just about managed to put the drums in my lounge (they're still in my lounge), mumble something to my mother about food and head to the nearest café for the first food of the day. 3:30 pm appears to be an acceptable time for breakfast now. I stumbled into my bedroom and collapsed onto the squashy duvet, telling @notCatharine (who I'd been texting all afternoon) that I was just having a quick rest.

Evidently I fell asleep, and was awoken about an hour later by my mother telling me we were going to my uncle's birthday gathering...

I got very little sleep this weekend.

Sorry for the random nature of this post. I needed to say something at some point, and in the absence of sexiness (with the exception of 47's cock and sexting Catharine), sleep (or lack of the same) was my natural fallback. If only it were my natural state too...

No comments: