Random shiz that happened today and yesterday.

Now, there's a title to leave you guessing.

First up, my question was on Ask The Bloggess as one of the Most Unanswerable Questions In The Fucking World which I think means I win at life. Or maybe the other way around. (Don't be silly. No one lifes at win. Unless you're in Soviet Russia. In Soviet Russia, life wins you.)

Secondly, I've forgotten so it can't have been important.

Thirdly, today I fell arse-over-teakettle down some stairs. Luckily I was already at the hospital, but it still knocked me for one. I've been slaughtering myself on Wii Fit for hours every night and now my legs are like jelly. They decided they were going to give me up for dead and nearly knocked me out. Assuming I ever walk again I'm going back to the hospital to suggest some sort of leaver-and-pulley system so I can just sit down and go zooming up three floors instead of falling down one on my arse.

That's more of less it for now. Rach is visiting in a couple of days so I should have some more to write about soon.

How I lost my soul in Morrisons supermarket.

One of my pet hates is when supermarkets change their layout. My local - Morrisons - has done it and I keep forgetting so I always leave with only half of what I meant to buy and a pulsing urge to slap some bitches sideways.

Today I went shoe shopping with BFF Main Gay.5 which is actually more agonising than clothes shopping with him. I was wearing my mutilated old work shoes and was feeling it after an hour or so. In the evening, I went into Morrisons looking for burgers, sausages and bacon. Not that much to ask, no? But still I ended up stranded in Morrisons after circling the place five times, pacing the aisle and glued to my phone.

I called my mum for back up because she's generally very calm in these situations (other than the time she abandoned the trolley and stormed out of Tesco) but instead I got the worst possible answer:

"Hello Mofo." said a strangely accented voice.

"Cleo?! What the fuck? Put Mum on."

"She's not here."

"Why? What have you done?"

"She's gone into the store."

"And why have you got her phone?"

"I dunno."

"So how am I supposed to call her?" Panic stricken by this point.

"I dunno."

"Fuck it. I'm hanging up."

"Bye Mofo."

*click*

So I ran around Morrisons looking for my mum, my shoes flapping and my feet killing. Two minutes later someone calls my attention, I'm so stressed out I don't even think notice my feet feeling slightly cold.

"Excuse me! You've left something of your shoe here." A nice man said, pointing to a black mess of tortured rubber a few feet away.

I looked at it. I looked at him. I looked at my basket, which was empty, and said:

"Yes I expect that'll be the sole of my shoe."

I said thanks and walked out of Morrisons with my shoe doing rings around my ankle.

I hate that place so fucking much right now.

My nose is fucking with me. Or maybe I'm pregnant. Either one.

Today I was at work and I could smell cake. It smelt really nice and vanilla-y. It might've been me that smelled of cake because I have a strange cakey-complex at the moment which means I have to make cakes whenever I'm in the kitchen, which, in this house, is about 1/5 of the time. Win. A big fat cakey win.

Then I was walking through town after I finally tracked down a driver's licence form and I swear I could smell coffee coming from a butcher's shop.

And then finally, when I was stood in the lighting... bit.. at Fibbers watching a band when my dad took over the lighting desk (he was in the support band, I did the lighting, swap, split the money, drinks all round) I turned to my dad with hope in my eyes and said:

"Dad? Do you smell cheese and onion pasties?"

He gave me a look like, oh you poor child. "Uhm. I think that's B.O. Nicky."

"Really?"

"Yeah.. it's hot in here."

Silence for a moment.. (apart from the metal band playing in the background) "Well shit, that's delicious."

Merry she goes. Or something.

I wish something would happen around here.

Sure, stuff has been happening, but stuff hasn't been happening, which is quite a distinction, let me tell you.

Stuff that's happened. Iceland blew up and emptied most of Europe's airspace, everything's kinda dusty and I cannot. fucking. breathe. because there's ash in the air and I'm all asthmatic and shit. I got a permanent job AT LAST and I'm as glad as two small shiny happy things. It's barely warm enough for barbeques but we've had two already. Baby Chunk can say my name and totalled my mum's house and then fixed it again.

I got a new phone after seven years, but I'm pretty sure I've told everyone and their mum all that.

My birthday is in twelve days. I don't know what's happening but my mum seems to have a good idea about it. Once again, I think everyone and their mum is coming. Because I'm just such a social butterfly...

I'm gonna dye my hair back to its usual colour because at the end of sixteen, I've gone grey. I'm not kidding. And it's not just my hair either. I woke up this morning and my skin was grey and purple. I don't know whether that was because I couldn't breathe or because I'm usually at work when the sun makes an appearance.

So that's pretty much all that's happened. I wish I had as much to say as my dad, for example, who has been texting me at 1.30am every night telling my about his day (he's on tour at the moment) and other than it being absolutely awesome, it makes me look boring. Though he assures me that tripping over in B&Q and falling face-first into a tent isn't something everybody does.

No one mourns the wicked.

I don't know whether it's my happy pills making me edgy (they're actually meant to cure anxiety, the bastards) or if I'm just having one of those damning epiphanies but I'm nervous about leaving the house tomorrow.

It's hard to explain. I go to work everyday, I see the same faces and many, many new ones that I'll never see again. None of them know me that well, or at all, and I have the ability to run on auto-pilot at work.

Tomorrow I'm seeing my friends who know me well enough to get it right on the first or second guess and I'm nervous as hell.

I haven't been to school in about two and a half months now. I haven't seen three of my four closer friends in nearly a month. I can't describe how I feel about that because on top of being totally fucked up from the inside out, my head, my judgement and my ability to feel and know it's not The Big Bad making me feel like that is clouded.

Lemon. I haven't seen her nearly as much as I should since she went to college. We all went through the lower school together and then Lemon left for college. Now that I've been out of school for so long I can imagine what it feels like, being away from people your so accustomed to.

Anner. I saw her everyday at school, met her at every break, spent every lunchtime with her and loved it. Insane and insanely good company, only somehow she always managed to make me look like the twisted, evil, insane one. Evil git. God, I love my Anner.

Mo-Balls. A total babe magnet, Mo-Balls wouldn't be sighted in our company very much, she's loved by everyone and is just gosh-to-goodness fantastic. She's also absolutely hopeless. Only don't tell her I said that. Jesus...

BFF Main Gay.5. Thinking of him makes me ache a little. He doesn't talk to me now. The last time we spoke he shouted at me, telling me to do something, anything that wasn't doing nothing. I love him a lot, he's like some close relative to me, and like most of my close relatives right now, he doesn't understand how my head is all that well. That's not his fault.

I remember reciting everyone's timetables every year as we grew up. Arranging to meet up at school, out of school. Organising trips to Whitby, meeting up to exchange Christmas presents. One of my favourite days ever: Christmas Eve 2008 sat on the City Walls with my urban family, just sitting about, being together.

So I'm nervous. I loved being with my friends, I loved the hugs and the laughs and the love that we all just exuded and soaked up. I'm not sure if it'll be the same tomorrow, just like old times where we meet up with lots of smiles and catching up.

I feel like I'm standing at the end of a really long tunnel. That's what it feels like. My head feels full, I feel not cold, but dead and I'm just losing. I don't know what I'm losing.

A summary whilst I wait for something better to write.

I have four drafts of different posts saved, but they all need work and I'm not in the mood, like at all.

Between working, sleeping and watching my social life skip off into the dusk I've come to love the following things.

1. Walking the dogs.

Trundling through Walmgate Stray with two very active and competitive dogs whilst trying not to step in any of the hidden boggy bits (about 90% of it) is oddly lovely.

2. Destroying my mum's house.

I've had the opportunity to vent and be destructive. I took out a kitchen, jumped through the back of a wardrobe before it collapsed (my sister crapped herself) and then put tons of holes in the walls.

3. Redecorating/rebuilding my mum's house.

I've painted most of the rooms now, I plastered all the walls after I left them full of holes and I've shifted all the furniture. I also discovered a lovely message for me on the wall.


4. Staying awake until dawn.

Even though I'm at work most of the time, I can't help staying awake until the birds start singing. And then not being able to sleep because OhMyGodDon'tThoseBirdsEverShutUp??

So that's what I've been doing when I haven't been working my little fingers to the bone (I coloured in a map of the stockrooms yesterday... I'm special), fighting killer washing machines (that's another story) and making epic fail cake (better left untold).

Most of my secrets end up here anyway. I kinda suck.

Hey, for a moment there I was better at your job than you were.*

*Harsh but true.

You know how I suck at shopping? (Exhibits A, B, and C) I'm feeling a sort of onset of wisdom.

Oh wait. That was the nits.

Kidding. No. Anyway.

I'm in the middle of decorating my mum's house and because I'm a hermit I have seemingly endless amounts of money because I don't go out enough to make a dint in my wages, so I'm totally financing my mum's house right now.

We'd gone to one of the stores that works under the same company as the store I work in to get some paint the other day but we bought wayyyy too much because I've got eyes bigger than my belly and a brush bigger than my bucket too apparently (that's what she said, but she's insane).

The duty manager served us at the till. I know the procedure like the back of my hand because I can spend up to four or five hours at a time working those damn things. I know lots (my managers would disagree but they're insane too) about refunds, returns, sales etc, but I didn't expect me, a mere customer advisor, to be better versed in it than someone who specialises in this kinda shit.

Manager Guy now to be known as Lucky Joe: So I need to erm..

Me *to myself*: Put it back onto the card you originally paid on..

Lucky Joe: put it back onto the card you originally paid on and, erm.. because you, erm.. got it in a sale I- uhh..

Me: Need to refund it at the lowest price.

Lucky Joe: *echo* need to refund it at the lowest price.

Mum: Shit. When did you get so good?

Me: I'm a fucking pro, yo. Though don't tell anyone at work I said that. They think the customers just pity me.

---

No offense to this guy, he was doing fine and I was just being cocky because mostly all the tales from work that my mum hears involve punching, falling and building card towers.

Which reminds me, today at work I stabbed myself in the hand with a pair of scissors because the guy who wanted to view an item was fucking terrifying, so I rushed, the scissors slipped and I nearly lost a finger.

Thanks, Mr. Customer.

One day I'll slow down.

I have been SO busy for the last four days. Not only have I been working over 4 times more hours than I'm contracted to do (few complaints there - four times the pay on double pay for the holidays: kerching!), I've painted my mum's living room, killed a kitchen, been ravaged by insane dogs, not got to sleep before 4am in three weeks AND been made to talk to a psychologist.

My God is it hard to find time for stuffs.

Painting my mum's house has been fun... Someone painted 'NICOLE IS A LOVE MACHINE' across the walls by the window, I've got a second skin of paint, I've aged forty years and my painting trousers are way too big for me now, and that's always nice.

I also bought my brother an arse-face towel for his birthday, which he probably needs because his bathroom flooded on his birthday and there was water running down the walls which was EPIC.

And today I was woken up by someone throwing an easter egg at my head.

Le ouch.