I wrote this in a rush before creative writing club today. So, like, yeah, whatever.
In April we went for coffee and we didn’t touch each-other. It had been over a year but it was still too soon. You looked uglier than I remembered. You were losing your hair and you looked even thinner than before. I talked constantly, hardly pausing for a breath, and you just sat there, watching me.
In May we went to the zoo. It was too cold to go to the zoo but we went anyway. We touched and you made me laugh. I didn’t remember you being all that funny before but now you were. I laughed a lot and you liked it. We saw all the animals and we touched each-other.
In June we went drinking. It was the day before my birthday and you got me a card. I saw that you’d drafted the message in pencil first and then traced the letters with a pen so you wouldn’t make any mistakes.
We went drinking and then we went to the park and threw grass and soil at each-other. You stuffed a load of it down my top and it was all in our hair. And then you asked if you could kiss me and I wanted to say, “I don’t know, can you?” but I didn’t say that, I said “Um, yes”. And you kissed me.
A bit later in June we walked along the South Bank and I asked if we were back together or not. You said we were and we both changed our status on myspace.
Even later in June we had a sleepover at your house. I bought new underwear and we had sex on the wooden floor. It wasn’t great. After, we ate pizza and watched a Tim Burton film in our pajamas. And then we did it again on the sofa and it was better. We stayed up most of the night talking about our favourite ever gigs of all time and how stupid everyone else was.
In July and August we went to a lot of places. We were good. We went to Warsaw for a week to drink a lot of vodka and hang out in old churches. On the final night you proposed and I cracked a rib laughing.
In October things took a turn for the worse. You stopped calling so much and I slept with someone else (someone who, by the way, DID appreciate me and didn’t have such SHIT taste in music and wasn’t such a fucking WASTER LOSER IDIOT).
In November we needed to talk and so we did. You held my hand and said that this wasn’t working out for you anymore and I said fine, whatever, me neither. And that was that. We changed our statuses back and acted like nothing had ever happened.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
How Come Stuff Like This Never Happens to Anyone Else?
Get this:
So, on Sunday I bit the inside of my lip when I was eating some bread. It hurt but I didn't draw blood or anything. So I forgot about it.
Monday night I got home and happened to look in the mirror. I saw a mark just under my lip- a purple mark. I was like "WTF?"
I said to my dad "WTF is this?" and he was like "Oh, you must've burst a blood vessel" and I was like "!!!"
So I showed it to everyone the next day and they were like "OMG Eisor WTF is that?" and I was like "Burst my blood vessel up innit" and they were like "Oh my days".
So that night when I got home I looked in the mirror again and the mark had DOUBLED in size. You can imagine what I was like.
So today I did not leave the house. Because you know what it looks like? It looks like a lovebite. A lovebite on my face. And that is so not cool. I have a very classy image to uphold! What a blow.
I am currently reading 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius' by Dave Eggers and it is well good.
Also: How unfair is this? What exactly has he done to get on the Sex Offenders Register? Who is he harming? What a world. Hahaha.
So, on Sunday I bit the inside of my lip when I was eating some bread. It hurt but I didn't draw blood or anything. So I forgot about it.
Monday night I got home and happened to look in the mirror. I saw a mark just under my lip- a purple mark. I was like "WTF?"
I said to my dad "WTF is this?" and he was like "Oh, you must've burst a blood vessel" and I was like "!!!"
So I showed it to everyone the next day and they were like "OMG Eisor WTF is that?" and I was like "Burst my blood vessel up innit" and they were like "Oh my days".
So that night when I got home I looked in the mirror again and the mark had DOUBLED in size. You can imagine what I was like.
So today I did not leave the house. Because you know what it looks like? It looks like a lovebite. A lovebite on my face. And that is so not cool. I have a very classy image to uphold! What a blow.
I am currently reading 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius' by Dave Eggers and it is well good.
Also: How unfair is this? What exactly has he done to get on the Sex Offenders Register? Who is he harming? What a world. Hahaha.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Slipping Down Slowly, Slipping Down Sideways
More top quality writing:
This morning I was up at 5 o’clock- beating the sun by miles. I had an unusual craving for tea. There was no milk or sugar so I drank it straight. It was really disgusting and I couldn’t finish it. I swapped it for a can of coke, lit my first cigarette of the day and made a list of essential items.
It’s changed here, not half as good as it used to be, we say like we’re 70. Newcastle has lost it’s sparkle. We remember hide and seek in the pet cemetery, searching for the price of a mix-up in the gutter, playing chicken on Chily Road, drinking blackcurrent squash and eating peanuts in the Free Trade’s beer garden while our parents played Joni Mitchell on the jukebox, building dens in the backlane, reading the legendary graffiti in The Tyne’s toilets. Sunday afternoons in Chopwell Woods, school trips to the castle, getting lost in Eldon Square, sitting outside the library watching Mad Malcolm play the guitar and shout at red cars.
The city hasn’t changed, we have. We’re older, looking through cynical, bored eyes. We’ve done everything there is to do, gone everywhere worth going. We’ve outgrown it.
We are frequenting the same pubs our parents did when they were our age. The ‘l’ from the Jesmond Swimming Pool sign is still missing but that stopped making us laugh ten years ago. We spend every day with the people we went to playgroup with and they’re talking about getting jobs at BT and buying cars. And we’ve seen too many movies to be content here anymore.
I am on my way to your house to take you away. As soon as you open the door I am going to tell you to pack your leather jacket and laptop and come with me to Central Station. I know you’ll come, we’ve been planning this for months, I am only doing it for drama. We are going to elope. Elope to London.
Last night I sat on the back steps with my mum for the final time. We drank Lambrini (1.99 from the Spar) and listened to Carole King.
“How come you always stayed in Newcastle? Didn’t you ever want to explore?” I asked her.
“This is my home. I was born here and I’ll die here. God, how depressing”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that. You could leave anytime you wanted”
“I’ve got you kids, I couldn’t leave”
“But we’re grown up now, mum. You can do whatever you want”
“If only” she said and drained her glass. “Another?”
I’ve said goodbye to the cat and my bedroom. I’ve got a rucksack on each shoulder and I’m walking.
Down Dinsdale Road- twelve years ago I fell off my rollerskates and cut my knee just over there, by the postbox.
It’s a classic cold morning in the North East. But it’s bright and the air is fresh. I wonder how I’ll cope with the pollution in the capital. I’ll get used to it, probably.
For some reason I’ve got ‘Fog on the Tyne’ in my head. I went to school with the guy who wrote that’s granddaughter. She’s got two kids now and he’s dead. It’s a good song, sort of.
There’s Heaton Park where you can “go and see sex at night” according to my cousin, Annabel. I don’t know about that but to be honest I haven’t ever been there at night. It’s dangerous, even in the daytime.
They filmed a bit of Byker Grove over there- although we all know they filmed most of it in Durham. We all hated Byker Grove.
Sid’s Shop- where mum’s chuckie is about 400 quid so we can’t go in there anymore. We have to run past it usually but today I am leaving forever so I don’t care.
Down the hill towards The Cluny where mum and Annabel work as waitresses. I say work, whenever I go in they are just eating chips and gossiping. Luckily the manager is my auntie so they can do as they please- what’s she going to do- fire them?
Walking by the Ouseburn canal now, nearly there. God, the water is so filthy. Adam Baker jumped in once and sliced his foot open with a broken bottle. We had to take him to the hospital and he needed all sorts of injections. Idiot.
“Hi”
“Hi”
“Where’s your mum?”
“She’s asleep”
“Okay, good. Come on”
We are on the number one bus. We are excited, excited like we were on the day Alan Shearer visited our primary school. Excited like when the Methodist church burnt down. Excited like we used to be every Halloween and Bonfire Night. But this beats those things by a long way. We’re leaving, leaving together, leaving for somewhere we’ve never been. Leaving for good.
We look out of the window and know we’ll remember this place fondly, and it will always be our home. But we’re wasted on this town.
This morning I was up at 5 o’clock- beating the sun by miles. I had an unusual craving for tea. There was no milk or sugar so I drank it straight. It was really disgusting and I couldn’t finish it. I swapped it for a can of coke, lit my first cigarette of the day and made a list of essential items.
It’s changed here, not half as good as it used to be, we say like we’re 70. Newcastle has lost it’s sparkle. We remember hide and seek in the pet cemetery, searching for the price of a mix-up in the gutter, playing chicken on Chily Road, drinking blackcurrent squash and eating peanuts in the Free Trade’s beer garden while our parents played Joni Mitchell on the jukebox, building dens in the backlane, reading the legendary graffiti in The Tyne’s toilets. Sunday afternoons in Chopwell Woods, school trips to the castle, getting lost in Eldon Square, sitting outside the library watching Mad Malcolm play the guitar and shout at red cars.
The city hasn’t changed, we have. We’re older, looking through cynical, bored eyes. We’ve done everything there is to do, gone everywhere worth going. We’ve outgrown it.
We are frequenting the same pubs our parents did when they were our age. The ‘l’ from the Jesmond Swimming Pool sign is still missing but that stopped making us laugh ten years ago. We spend every day with the people we went to playgroup with and they’re talking about getting jobs at BT and buying cars. And we’ve seen too many movies to be content here anymore.
I am on my way to your house to take you away. As soon as you open the door I am going to tell you to pack your leather jacket and laptop and come with me to Central Station. I know you’ll come, we’ve been planning this for months, I am only doing it for drama. We are going to elope. Elope to London.
Last night I sat on the back steps with my mum for the final time. We drank Lambrini (1.99 from the Spar) and listened to Carole King.
“How come you always stayed in Newcastle? Didn’t you ever want to explore?” I asked her.
“This is my home. I was born here and I’ll die here. God, how depressing”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that. You could leave anytime you wanted”
“I’ve got you kids, I couldn’t leave”
“But we’re grown up now, mum. You can do whatever you want”
“If only” she said and drained her glass. “Another?”
I’ve said goodbye to the cat and my bedroom. I’ve got a rucksack on each shoulder and I’m walking.
Down Dinsdale Road- twelve years ago I fell off my rollerskates and cut my knee just over there, by the postbox.
It’s a classic cold morning in the North East. But it’s bright and the air is fresh. I wonder how I’ll cope with the pollution in the capital. I’ll get used to it, probably.
For some reason I’ve got ‘Fog on the Tyne’ in my head. I went to school with the guy who wrote that’s granddaughter. She’s got two kids now and he’s dead. It’s a good song, sort of.
There’s Heaton Park where you can “go and see sex at night” according to my cousin, Annabel. I don’t know about that but to be honest I haven’t ever been there at night. It’s dangerous, even in the daytime.
They filmed a bit of Byker Grove over there- although we all know they filmed most of it in Durham. We all hated Byker Grove.
Sid’s Shop- where mum’s chuckie is about 400 quid so we can’t go in there anymore. We have to run past it usually but today I am leaving forever so I don’t care.
Down the hill towards The Cluny where mum and Annabel work as waitresses. I say work, whenever I go in they are just eating chips and gossiping. Luckily the manager is my auntie so they can do as they please- what’s she going to do- fire them?
Walking by the Ouseburn canal now, nearly there. God, the water is so filthy. Adam Baker jumped in once and sliced his foot open with a broken bottle. We had to take him to the hospital and he needed all sorts of injections. Idiot.
“Hi”
“Hi”
“Where’s your mum?”
“She’s asleep”
“Okay, good. Come on”
We are on the number one bus. We are excited, excited like we were on the day Alan Shearer visited our primary school. Excited like when the Methodist church burnt down. Excited like we used to be every Halloween and Bonfire Night. But this beats those things by a long way. We’re leaving, leaving together, leaving for somewhere we’ve never been. Leaving for good.
We look out of the window and know we’ll remember this place fondly, and it will always be our home. But we’re wasted on this town.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
A Better Day
I watched 'Delicatessen' for the first time today. It was so awesome that I couldn't quite believe my eyes.
I am off to see Lez Zeppelin tonight!
I am sure it will be fantastic. Can't wait.
Yeah! Come on!
I am off to see Lez Zeppelin tonight!
I am sure it will be fantastic. Can't wait.
Yeah! Come on!
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Near Death Experience lol
Yeah, I nearly died today (sort of). Here's the story:
I was passing a bus stop (with a bus at it) on Oxford Street when there was this MASSIVE loud noise- like an explosion. Then all this smoke started coming out of the bus. Naturally my first thought was "oh good another terrorist attack" and everyone else seemed to have the same thought as we all started running for our lives. Problem was that there were many, many people and we all ended up crushed against a shop front. Everyone was screaming and it was fucking terrifying. But then the bus drove off and I was like "What?". People started walking away. I was like "What?". I turned to the girl standing next to me and said "What? What just happened?" and she told me.
Turns out some jokers lit a firework and threw it under the bus.
There was a crowd gathering around something so I asked the girl what that was about and all.
She said: "Everyone turned around and ran and this old woman got knocked over and trampled on. She hit her head. She's got a walking stick and everything- those bastards"
I went on my way shaking like mad.
How stupid do you have to be to do something like that? Not only was it totally dangerous but it also made hundreds of people think they were about to die.
You just don't do that on Oxford Street. Everyone is well jumpy ever since that day when it all kicked off. How fucking stupid do you have to be?
Well, that ruined my day. Oh, and on the tube home there was this abandoned Twirl chocolate bar on the seat opposite me and I was convinced that it was a bomb and drove myself half mental. How ridiculous.
They turned on the Christmas lights today. It's the 7th of November for crying out loud! What a world.
I was passing a bus stop (with a bus at it) on Oxford Street when there was this MASSIVE loud noise- like an explosion. Then all this smoke started coming out of the bus. Naturally my first thought was "oh good another terrorist attack" and everyone else seemed to have the same thought as we all started running for our lives. Problem was that there were many, many people and we all ended up crushed against a shop front. Everyone was screaming and it was fucking terrifying. But then the bus drove off and I was like "What?". People started walking away. I was like "What?". I turned to the girl standing next to me and said "What? What just happened?" and she told me.
Turns out some jokers lit a firework and threw it under the bus.
There was a crowd gathering around something so I asked the girl what that was about and all.
She said: "Everyone turned around and ran and this old woman got knocked over and trampled on. She hit her head. She's got a walking stick and everything- those bastards"
I went on my way shaking like mad.
How stupid do you have to be to do something like that? Not only was it totally dangerous but it also made hundreds of people think they were about to die.
You just don't do that on Oxford Street. Everyone is well jumpy ever since that day when it all kicked off. How fucking stupid do you have to be?
Well, that ruined my day. Oh, and on the tube home there was this abandoned Twirl chocolate bar on the seat opposite me and I was convinced that it was a bomb and drove myself half mental. How ridiculous.
They turned on the Christmas lights today. It's the 7th of November for crying out loud! What a world.
Monday, November 05, 2007
People
Okay, here's a well long bit of writing.
People, People Who Need People (The Luckiest People?)
1
He said I was beautiful as if saying it would make it true. He was saying what he thought he was supposed to. He didn’t believe it though and neither did I.
I liked Daniel and he liked Michelle but they wouldn’t consider either of us for a second so we teamed up. We didn’t like each other that much. We went everywhere together and held hands on the street. On Valentine’s Day he took me to see Lost in Translation and then we went to Café Rouge. We bought cards and he gave me flowers. But the whole time we kept our eyes open, looking out for something better. We were together for three years but we never really liked each other that much. We just happened to be free on the same days.
2
On Thursday the post is always late. That’s because we’ve got two different postmen now- Martin and Barry. We’ve known Martin for years, he delivered all the children’s 11 plus results and is always so nice and friendly but he’s only working part-time now so we have to put up with Barry three days a week. Barry is incompetent. Always late, uniform not ironed, headphones in his ears. He’s a disaster- did I tell you he’s got a tooth missing? He has tattoos all over his arms and he doesn’t even have the decency to cover them up, he always wears the same grubby blue short-sleeved shirt, hardly buttoned, with nothing underneath.
“Alright Mrs. King?” he says, handing over my Lakeland catalogue and Ted’s Private Eye. “Hmm thank you” I always reply before quickly closing (and locking) the door.
At night when Ted is asleep, the garage door is locked and the teasmaid is set, I put my fingers deep inside myself and think of Barry and his ghastly unbuttoned shirt.
3
We are sitting in the back yard. My mum is talking about her new boyfriend:
“He says he is going on a walk. Whenever I call him he’s in Heaton Park. Always in Heaton Park”
“Right”
“I’ve heard things about Heaton Park. I’ve heard you can go down there and… see sex”
“So that’s what you think he’s doing, dogging?”
“I don’t know. He never tells me anything”
Wojtek comes through the backdoor
“Wojtek?”
“Yes”
“Where have you been?”
“Park”
She looks at me
“What were you doing there?”
“Drink”
“Drinking? Alone?”
“No, with friends”
“Which friends?”
“New friends I meet today”
She looks at me
“Polish or English?”
“English”
“Men or women?”
“Yes. One man, one woman”
She looks at me
“Where are you going now?”
“I go bath”
“What are you eating?”
“Potato”
“Where did you get that?”
“Shop”
He disappears indoors.
She turns to me
“See?” she says, “He never tells me anything”
4
Friday night was Film Night and it had been for two years exactly. They watched two films each time. Usually American indie films as those were their favourite but every now and then they’d try a blockbuster for size. He had a big widescreen TV in his room and they usually sat on his bed while they watched. Afterwards they’d discuss each film in detail and give it a mark out of 10. Then he’d walk her home.
But not tonight. Tonight she’s not coming. She’s got a date, she says, with Bill from the video shop.
He’d always assumed that they’d end up together. One Film Night he’d pluck up the courage to kiss her and soon after that they’d get married. And be together forever. But that couldn’t happen now, no, not after this, no way.
5
She knew there was a way to eat spaghetti without making a prat out of yourself but her mind had gone completely blank. She could barely hold a fork, let alone remember how to use it.
She liked him. He had nice eyes and teeth. The rest of his face wasn’t all that but she didn’t think that was important, really. What counted was that he wasn’t a complete monster and he liked her, liked her enough to ask her out and she was grateful for that.
It had been so long since she’d kissed someone that she worried she might have forgotten how to. She’d practiced earlier on the back of her hand but it wasn’t really the same. Maybe he didn’t even want to kiss her. Maybe he thought of her as a friend. Maybe he only asked her out because he felt sorry for her. God, that didn’t even bear thinking about.
He said something she didn’t quite hear or understand but she laughed anyway. Hahaha, yes.
He didn’t seem to be having any trouble with the cutlery. Did he go on a lot of dates? He probably did, all the time, loads. Non stop.
He didn’t look very happy, he was probably ruing the day he asked her out. She asked how work was and concentrated on smiling and nodding at the right times and pretending to eat.
Jesus, he just looked at his watch. It’s over before it’s even begun. She should just excuse herself now and save them both a lot of awkwardness. If she left now he might ask her out again. Before she got drunk and vomited on him or started talking about her childhood. She should leave now. Right now, while they still have a chance.
6
Our whole relationship was built on lies. LIES. Two years ago, when we met, he told me that he was a doctor at Great Ormond Street. I was impressed, obviously. He moved into my flat after a couple of months and we were Very Much In Love. After work he’d come home and tell me about how he’d just separated some Siamese twins or given a nine-month-old baby a heart transplant. It made me feel bad- he saved the lives of children and I answered the phone for a company that made chairs. Compared to him I was a complete waste of space. But I though that by being his girlfriend I’d be special too, a bit of his magic might rub off on me.
On my birthday he brought home a card signed by all the terminally ill children at the hospital. I wept over it, I really did. And he was so wonderful to me- always telling me how amazing and beautiful I was. How he’d never met anyone like me, never had a connection like this with anyone else. He talked about the future- babies, a house in country, holidays in Switzerland.
One night in August it all came out. He didn’t work at Great Ormond Street. He wasn’t even a doctor. He was assistant manager at a branch of Superdrug on the other side of town. He didn’t think someone as special and amazing as me would even consider someone like him. So he bended the truth a little. He didn’t intend to carry it on for so long but he was scared. Scared I’d leave him. But now he knew that I loved him for him, not for his occupation. I did love him for him didn’t I? We’d be okay wouldn’t we?
In my opinion- the best thing about this is the title. But it seems that a lot of people don't know where it's from which is just disgraceful. If you don't know I won't tell you.
Anyway, yes.
People, People Who Need People (The Luckiest People?)
1
He said I was beautiful as if saying it would make it true. He was saying what he thought he was supposed to. He didn’t believe it though and neither did I.
I liked Daniel and he liked Michelle but they wouldn’t consider either of us for a second so we teamed up. We didn’t like each other that much. We went everywhere together and held hands on the street. On Valentine’s Day he took me to see Lost in Translation and then we went to Café Rouge. We bought cards and he gave me flowers. But the whole time we kept our eyes open, looking out for something better. We were together for three years but we never really liked each other that much. We just happened to be free on the same days.
2
On Thursday the post is always late. That’s because we’ve got two different postmen now- Martin and Barry. We’ve known Martin for years, he delivered all the children’s 11 plus results and is always so nice and friendly but he’s only working part-time now so we have to put up with Barry three days a week. Barry is incompetent. Always late, uniform not ironed, headphones in his ears. He’s a disaster- did I tell you he’s got a tooth missing? He has tattoos all over his arms and he doesn’t even have the decency to cover them up, he always wears the same grubby blue short-sleeved shirt, hardly buttoned, with nothing underneath.
“Alright Mrs. King?” he says, handing over my Lakeland catalogue and Ted’s Private Eye. “Hmm thank you” I always reply before quickly closing (and locking) the door.
At night when Ted is asleep, the garage door is locked and the teasmaid is set, I put my fingers deep inside myself and think of Barry and his ghastly unbuttoned shirt.
3
We are sitting in the back yard. My mum is talking about her new boyfriend:
“He says he is going on a walk. Whenever I call him he’s in Heaton Park. Always in Heaton Park”
“Right”
“I’ve heard things about Heaton Park. I’ve heard you can go down there and… see sex”
“So that’s what you think he’s doing, dogging?”
“I don’t know. He never tells me anything”
Wojtek comes through the backdoor
“Wojtek?”
“Yes”
“Where have you been?”
“Park”
She looks at me
“What were you doing there?”
“Drink”
“Drinking? Alone?”
“No, with friends”
“Which friends?”
“New friends I meet today”
She looks at me
“Polish or English?”
“English”
“Men or women?”
“Yes. One man, one woman”
She looks at me
“Where are you going now?”
“I go bath”
“What are you eating?”
“Potato”
“Where did you get that?”
“Shop”
He disappears indoors.
She turns to me
“See?” she says, “He never tells me anything”
4
Friday night was Film Night and it had been for two years exactly. They watched two films each time. Usually American indie films as those were their favourite but every now and then they’d try a blockbuster for size. He had a big widescreen TV in his room and they usually sat on his bed while they watched. Afterwards they’d discuss each film in detail and give it a mark out of 10. Then he’d walk her home.
But not tonight. Tonight she’s not coming. She’s got a date, she says, with Bill from the video shop.
He’d always assumed that they’d end up together. One Film Night he’d pluck up the courage to kiss her and soon after that they’d get married. And be together forever. But that couldn’t happen now, no, not after this, no way.
5
She knew there was a way to eat spaghetti without making a prat out of yourself but her mind had gone completely blank. She could barely hold a fork, let alone remember how to use it.
She liked him. He had nice eyes and teeth. The rest of his face wasn’t all that but she didn’t think that was important, really. What counted was that he wasn’t a complete monster and he liked her, liked her enough to ask her out and she was grateful for that.
It had been so long since she’d kissed someone that she worried she might have forgotten how to. She’d practiced earlier on the back of her hand but it wasn’t really the same. Maybe he didn’t even want to kiss her. Maybe he thought of her as a friend. Maybe he only asked her out because he felt sorry for her. God, that didn’t even bear thinking about.
He said something she didn’t quite hear or understand but she laughed anyway. Hahaha, yes.
He didn’t seem to be having any trouble with the cutlery. Did he go on a lot of dates? He probably did, all the time, loads. Non stop.
He didn’t look very happy, he was probably ruing the day he asked her out. She asked how work was and concentrated on smiling and nodding at the right times and pretending to eat.
Jesus, he just looked at his watch. It’s over before it’s even begun. She should just excuse herself now and save them both a lot of awkwardness. If she left now he might ask her out again. Before she got drunk and vomited on him or started talking about her childhood. She should leave now. Right now, while they still have a chance.
6
Our whole relationship was built on lies. LIES. Two years ago, when we met, he told me that he was a doctor at Great Ormond Street. I was impressed, obviously. He moved into my flat after a couple of months and we were Very Much In Love. After work he’d come home and tell me about how he’d just separated some Siamese twins or given a nine-month-old baby a heart transplant. It made me feel bad- he saved the lives of children and I answered the phone for a company that made chairs. Compared to him I was a complete waste of space. But I though that by being his girlfriend I’d be special too, a bit of his magic might rub off on me.
On my birthday he brought home a card signed by all the terminally ill children at the hospital. I wept over it, I really did. And he was so wonderful to me- always telling me how amazing and beautiful I was. How he’d never met anyone like me, never had a connection like this with anyone else. He talked about the future- babies, a house in country, holidays in Switzerland.
One night in August it all came out. He didn’t work at Great Ormond Street. He wasn’t even a doctor. He was assistant manager at a branch of Superdrug on the other side of town. He didn’t think someone as special and amazing as me would even consider someone like him. So he bended the truth a little. He didn’t intend to carry it on for so long but he was scared. Scared I’d leave him. But now he knew that I loved him for him, not for his occupation. I did love him for him didn’t I? We’d be okay wouldn’t we?
In my opinion- the best thing about this is the title. But it seems that a lot of people don't know where it's from which is just disgraceful. If you don't know I won't tell you.
Anyway, yes.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Joke of the Day
Joke of the Day:
Two snowmen are standing next to each-other
One says to the other "Do you smell carrots?"
Hahahahahahaha.
Two snowmen are standing next to each-other
One says to the other "Do you smell carrots?"
Hahahahahahaha.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Yeah!
There is a 'shocking' story on The Sun's website today.
It's about this fifteen-year-old girl off the X Factor. She's the token sad sack because she nearly died of this illness a few years ago- but her love of singing pulled her through or whatever. She can't sing for shit but everyone loved her.
Until now.
Turns out she's not such a nice girl. She's in a gang (her gang name is Lady Shiverz). She threatens to cut out people's eyes. She's been caught on camera "battering" a random girl.
I am looking forward to hearing her excuse. Was she rehearsing for a play? Was she possessed by the devil? Did the girl call her mum a prostitute?
Whatever she says, she's getting voted off on Saturday.
Speaking of X Factor- it's the worst thing on television at the moment (apart from Dragon's Den, Loose Women, Most Haunted, Honey We're Killing the Kids, Market Kitchen, anything with Gordon Ramsay in it). I hate everything about it- the contestants, the judges, the songs, the audience, the voiceover, the opening credits, the adverts they play between breaks, Sharon Osbourne's hair, face and voice.
It is disgusting, a joke of a show obviously all set up to finally make Simon Cowell the RICHEST MAN IN DA WORLD EVA and it is extremely insulting to our intelligence. And it's the nation's favourite programme. Huh.
Update: Surprise surprise!
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