Monday, February 26, 2007

"Mouthwash gives me the confidence I need to face the world each morning. Without it I'd just sit in my house crying and slicing myself with knives"

"How does mouthwash make you feel, emotionally?"
My evening was full of questions like this. Because this evening I did some market research thing.
Me and four other girls aged between 16 and 20. We sat in a tiny room with a massive mirror on the wall and microphones hanging from the celling and 'discussed' mouthwash. It was very, very dull.
We talked about what we look for in a mouthwash. We talked about what the best flavours of mouthwash were. We looked at some bottles of mouthwash and commented on their design. We talked about what the ideal mouthwash would be. For hours and hours.
Near the end, the man who was asking the questions leaned in and said "What would you say if I told you that you could buy mouthwash and toothpaste... combined?"
"You must be kidding me, that would be a dream come true!" I cried.
He gave me a nasty look, like I was taking the piss or something. Which, to be fair, I was.

Well I got £60 for my trouble. So I took a walk down to Borders on Oxford Street and bought two Bukowski books: Factotum and Ham on Rye. Brill.

Don't forget to tune in on Thursday to hear all about my surgery and hopefully see some pictures of me with a huge bandage on my face.

Monday, February 19, 2007

More rejection, plastic surgery and licky mental patients

Here is what has been happening:

I have been rejected from 4 of 5 of the universities I applied to. This sucks pretty hard.
But! University of Westminster got in touch and requested a portfolio. I've spent the past 48 hours trying really hard to write really good things. I am semi-pleased with the results. I will send it all off to them in the post tomorrow morning and hope for the best. It's all I can do.

I am getting surgery on my face!
About a year ago this cyst appeared on the right side of my face, on my cheek. It's not that big but it is noticeable. I hate it. Anyway, the doctor is going to cut it out, on the 1st of March. It counts as 'plastic surgery' which is pretty funny. Hopefully I'll have a cool scar.

Well, I can't be bothered to write anymore. I just had a midnight bath and it's made me very sleepy. So I'll just copy and paste this:

The Ghost Story

We had just moved into a new flat. The walls were bare and you couldn’t move for boxes. It was late at night and the rest of the family were asleep. My younger brother and I were still awake, on our respective bunks reading by torchlight. “Tell me a ghost story” he said.
“Okay. There was this woman, this really old woman, really old”
“Older than Grandma?”
“Oh yeah, older than Grandma for sure. She lived in a cottage in the countryside, alone with her pet dog”
“Like Grandma’s dog?”
“Yeah, a bit like Grandma's dog. Anyway, the old woman loved the dog more than anything, it was her best friend”
“That’s a bit sad”
“Yeah. Anyway, every night the woman and the dog did the same thing. The woman would turn off the light and go to sleep and the dog would lie on the floor right next to her bed. And if the woman had a bad dream in the middle of the night, she’d put her hand down to the floor and the dog would lick it to stop her feeling scared. Then the woman would just go straight back to sleep”
“That’s nice”
“Yeah. So, one night the woman was listening to the radio and she heard about this escaped mental patient on the loose, attacking old women who lived alone in the countryside”
“Oh God”
“So this shook her up a bit, obviously. She found it hard to get to sleep and when she did sleep she had horrible dreams. After one of the said horrible dreams, she put her hand down by the bed and the dog licked it, making her feel better”
“I wish I had a dog like that”
“Who doesn’t? So the dog was licking her hand and the woman turned her head the other way, so she could see into the next room. The dog was in there, lying by the fireplace. And something was still licking her hand! The end”
My brother leaned over the top bunk and asked:
“How could the dog be licking her hand if it’s in the next room?”
“It wasn’t the dog licking her hand”
“Then what was it?”
“The escaped mental patient”
“So who was in the next room?”
“The dog”
“But, I thought the dog always lay by the bed incase the woman had a bad dream”
Well… yeah. But the mental patient probably pushed it out of the way”
“Wouldn’t the dog bark and make a lot of noise if that happened?”
“No”
“And, wouldn’t it put up a bit of a fight, dogs are very loyal to their owners”
“When did you become such a dog expert, Cai?”
“It’s common knowledge. The dog wouldn’t just go and lie in the other room without a sound”
“Well, this one did”
“And why was the escaped mental patient just licking the woman’s hand? Why hadn’t he attacked her already?”
“Because that’s not scary, just killing her outright”
“What, so he does kill her?”
“Maybe…”
“Why didn’t you finish the story then?”
“I did. That’s the end”
“But he was just licking her hand. How scary is that?”
“Jesus! I don’t need to say “and then he killed her”, you’d think that would be obvious”
“But when the woman was listening to the radio she heard that women were being attacked, not killed necessarily”
“Look, that is where the story ends and you are supposed to decide what happens after. It’s scarier that way, imagining all the awful things that could take place”
“Well, I don’t think he killed her, he didn’t kill the others”
“Okay, fine”
I turned off my torch and settled down to sleep, above me my brother did the same. I waited until he was drifting off, stood up and licked his right hand.
He screamed the place down.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Dream

Last night I dreamed that I fell in love with someone who was half man, half wolf.

He had hairy hands with claws instead of fingernails.

He was embarrassed about being half wolf, he said he hated it. I told him that I thought it was cool. He thought I was just being nice but I wasn't. I meant it.

I kissed his hands and he smiled. We listened to Indigo Girls and ate goat's cheese.

I asked him if he'd rather:
Never hear any of his favourite music ever again
Or
Hear his favourite music, but it would always be so quiet that you could hardly make out what song was on

He said he'd rather never hear the music again. I am still not sure if this was the right or wrong answer.

I went to the toilet and when I came back he'd gone. He left a note though, saying he was sorry, he had to go but he'd be back soon. He had extremely impressive handwriting (even in dreams I am excited by good handwriting since mine is so terrible).

I woke up before he got back. This pissed me off, big style. How unfair, I meet an awesome wolf man but then I wake up before anything good can happen. Typical.

I miss my dream wolf man.