Now Playing: Snow Patrol and Scissor Sisters
Sorry for bad tempered posting this week; after a few weeks of going out often, the inevitable grumpy crash occurred. Last weekend with Derby and Krystal was so cool that everything looks dull and draining in comparison. After I smacked my cheekbone open earlier in the week (much better, thanks), I've had that constant feeling that I'm about to cry.
The interesting one on one chats on BB all occur about 1am, and so, tiredness from excursions, plus staying up till two every night, make me a No Happy Bunny. Decided to recharge by spending a weekend at home - cue guilty conscience because I haven't seen my dad to give him his father's day or birthday presents, and they're too heavy to post, plus irritable refusal to go sit in the laundrette and wash the four foot pile of dirty clothes. Which means I smell bad and my clothes are grubby.
Added to this, a creeping need to drink alcohol. I had given up drinking entirely, then at Easter I decided it was okay to drink when I go out with friends; just the last few days, knowing I was getting grumpier, sulkier, and waiting for the strop to descend, I found myself thinking about glasses of white wine all the time.
Yesterday evening I gave in, bought a bottle, then realised I don't own a bottle opener. It took two hours of cruising local shops (witnessed by an embarrassing number of my customers from work), then experiments with screwdrivers to get to three whole glasses of wine. And as per usual, it didn't make me feel better to have given in.
Of course, having spent a Friday evening in, drinking alone and watching telly, combined with the terribly retrograde decision to engage in e-mail conversation about trivialities with an ex (an as yet unblogged ex who could only really benefit me by never having slept with me in the first place) - that's all going to make me feel so much better.
The only bright spark in the tunnel of oblivion that's this weekend has been watching the Glastonbury highlights. Shit performance from Kings of Leon, but I was jealously enjoying Snow Patrol, Oasis, Franz Ferdinand, PJ Harvey, Spearhead and Goldfrapp, and remembering how great gigging can be. Not that jealous, though - the site looks full enough and corporate enough to remind me of Donington or Reading; where's the hippie nonsense? Where's the other mindbending, black market barter economy, toilet roll grabbing stuff that makes Glastonbury what it really is - the annual opportunit to find out how rapaciously snobbish hippies really are?
Ah well, if we didn't have bleak patches, I suppose we'd never know when we're happy. Or somesuch obvious bullshit.
Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: The Final Broadcast
"My last few days (hopefully on the bus):
A small jotting of thanks to those on the 428, my 'friends' as this week should be the breaking of our Fellowship.
1) BonJovi Boy: Thanks for playing your Bon Jovi CD every day for the past 3 and a half years. It seems like it was the same CD, although I feel that it would be far too sad if it were.
2) DrPepper Girl: Always reading the Sun and sitting in front of me, so I get the chance to read it too. It's the swigging of Dr Pepper at 7.40am that gets me. I'll miss your obvious need of a cigarette.
3) Kid-who-falls-asleep: This lad's gone through so much change, it's like we've grown up together (I say grown up - it's been 3 and a half years, yet he's about 2 inches taller)."