They said there'd be snow this Christmas...

An amazing thing happened today. I actually slept through sociology without being caught. I woke up feeling a little like I was dying after four hours sleep (after the weekend I've had? Shocking) but now I'm just a strange shade of green because I stayed up until 3am doing essays and then when I got to the damn lesson no one had done them anyway.

Pfft... At least I have the moral high ground for now. Assholes. (Not really! No! Please don't ostracise me again! AHH!)

I can't really remember what I did today. I think I spent two lessons watching The Magnificent Seven or Teh Mag-nee-fee-cenn Seh-veeehn so I now know how to shoot bald guys and sombreros. You know, vital life skills.

I'll just take a moment to tell you that in true Northern English style, the weather is terrible. Cold, wet, windy, icy - the very last thing I need when I'm trying to make it through the year without shooting someone. I pity da fool that comes across me when the weather gets even worse. Blergh.

How I long for this weather:

Ahh, Tenerife! Where the heat would literally knock you out, send you down a flight of stairs ON YOUR FACE, make you have a seizure, lose all your memory and wake up as Sookie Stackhouse (true story) and leave you with epic sunburn that cracked and blistered your skin until you bled dry and left you scarred TO THIS DAY with strange pink/brown/white scars all over.

Actually, on second thoughts I don't miss that so much.

I do miss summer though. I remember when everyone (myself included) got all hyped up over Autumn and everyone was all OH EM GEE LOOK AT THE LEAVES and everyone else was all Jesus it's a leave for fuck's sake and all I was left with was that video of the suicidal leaves that I posted about in May which was hilarious so you should definitely click that link.



In Summer I'll think of Winter as snow and icy fresh air and the smell of burning wood and the cool clean smell that comes from the countryside when the city cools down, but it never is like that. Most years there is no snow and we just see endless rain and flooding.



This was taken exactly a year ago yesterday. Nothing's looked like that in a very long time.

Getting that sinking feeling...

Room to breathe.

This space is reserved for when I get out of the shower.

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Right, back. And I'm making my own rules up so I definitely published this post before midnight.

I'm right. Shut up.

I'll have to keep it sweet because it's now nearly half past twelve and I've still got this bee-ee-ay-utiful essay to do on the sociological explanations of family diversity and shit, so I'm on borrowed time tonight.

Right: Friday, I went to The Duchess and had the most awesome night watching Parade and Josh & Co. which was a great start to the weekend. Had a few sentimental moments but we've already been there.

I spent Saturday morning working and I finally learnt to use the tills in the store so I'm fully trained and everything which is cool. Had a few problems with customers, one wanted to complain because the camera she'd bought was full of suck and didn't work at all and she wanted us to take it apart and find the problem and I was like "Lady, I don't work for Toshiba" but of course I didn't say that because then my butt would be OUT of that job faster than a bat from hell, so yeah.

Saturday night: Mostly Autumn. I see them every year and I love it every time. I had an episode after where I was trying to find my dad, talked my way backstage, ran around the damn venue looking for him, couldn't find him, left, walked home and then got a call saying "Were you looking for me? I was hiding behind a van because I kept getting mobbed but I thought I saw you go past." and it was all very complicated. Practically fell into bed and enjoyed my first lie in in two weeks the next morning.

Felt like CRAP on Sunday. Went shopping whilst hating everything and everyone, unable to stand up or focus, dizzy, slightly sick, craving sausage casserole (that was shortly rectified) before heading to my grandma's where she insisted on showing me this EPIC bruise on her butt/down her leg from where she went to sit down on her bed in the dark and missed by miles. Ouch.

And then finally I tottered (Literally. High, high heels and cobbled streets. Why does this keep happening to me? Why?) down to The Duchess and saw everyone for the third day running (we all go to the same shows... Gives me a twinge of nostalgia) before being flooded by drinks and "OH MY GOD is that you Nicole?" and "Remember me? We did an album together when you were seven." (no shit) and general awesome things. The show started with the support, two people I've known for a while, Anne-Marie Helder and Chris Johnson doing their thaang and then Breathing Space came on and put the cherry on top of the proverbial cake-ish weekend.

The band finished and everyone was screaming for more... The band came back and dedicated the song to the singer's mother (the singer's father died last year. He was great, we all knew him) and sang this ah-may-zing song. It was winding up to an explosive end when...

The whole bar was plunged into darkness. My dad was on lights so I assumed perhaps it was intentional. And then the fire alarm sounded. The damn smoke machine was too dense. We all started clapping and laughing. It was a fantastic way to end the night, and the weekend.

And now back to my normal, boring life.

Except I'm seeing Electric Six on Wednesday, just on a whim.

I really should count myself lucky. Because I know all these people I've been to three shows this weekend, had numerous drinks and snacks and stuff and spent absolutely nothing.

So here's a shout out to everyone who's been lovely, funny and rock-y all weekend with me. I love you all and I'll see you next year.

Reaching out and giving in.

Everyone take a deep breath, this probably won't make sense unless you are me, and I don't think you are. (Or are you...?)

Over the summer my parents came to blows because my mum found out that my dad had been seeing someone else. Sucks big time, right? I suppose so. I'll admit there were a few days weeks where I'd lie in bed listening to mum crying, or mum shouting, or my sister working herself up into a state, and by the end of it all I was left holding everything together.

This makes me very bitter.

I've always been oddly detached from my family. I don't really know my dad (I'm 90% sure he's awesome) despite living with him all my life, I don't get along with my sister by any stretch of the imagination and I spend half of my time arguing with my mum. I spend a lot of time shut away in my room. I don't mind it, particularly because it means that when my parents did split, or whatever they did, I felt like it didn't affect me. I was just holding up for someone else whilst they got back on their feet.

I had actually suspected that my dad was doing the dirty with this women. I can't remember why because that was all pre-Tenerife and I lost all that memory when I got amnesia but I remember suspecting it. And then I turned out to be right.

This women, I should point out, is great. She's gorgeous and lovely and funny and friendly and cuddly and also an amazing singer. I don't want to hate her because she's so amazing, and I thought so before it turned out she was sleeping with my dad. But I've always felt conflicted because when Hooker found out that his dad was sleeping with someone else, he hated his dad and stuck by his mum, and hates the women his dad went off with even more. Every other case I've heard has a similar result.

But I don't feel anything. Nothing close to that.

I'm a little frustrated that my mum has been cheated by a guy she's been with for 20 years, but I don't feel for that anywhere near enough.

Last night I was at one of the better venues in York watching a friend's band (I've grown up around the York music scene, I know everyone) and I saw tons of people I know from different bands and the fans of different bands that I see at all the gigs and conventions. I love this time of year where the bands and fans come home and play Christmas shows, because we all get together and make a weekend of it, as we are this weekend.

I was stood on the platform by the lighting decks watching the band when I saw her. I was stupidly interested in what she was doing and just watched her going around hugging people and dancing. A tiny, melodramatic voice in the back of my head was saying "She's the one that broke your home. She split your parents up." but like I said, it just seemed melodramatic. I wanted her to see me, I wanted her to recognise me and look nervous so I could tell her it's okay and buy her a drink, because for some stupid reason I'm the one that feels guilty.

What's wrong with me?

I should've be angry. I should've shoved her and screamed and shouted and thrown my drink at her. I should have been hysterical. Instead I smiled at her and watched her dance with a plump old lady to the last song. I danced along with her from the platform, laughing as people started to join in.

It's the kind of thing that makes me feel defective. Am I a terrible daughter or a compassionate being? I can't explain myself.

And I don't try to. When I get home I look at my mum, asleep in my sister's room, and go to lock up, wondering where my dad is. This is my lot and despite my complaints, I deal with it.

I started this post thinking that I'd give this woman a pardon and hope that she didn't let me down, but now I don't know where I stand.

And I forget just why I taste -
Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile
I found it hard, it was hard to find
Oh well, whatever, nevermind

I don't want a lot of Christmas... no, really. I mean it this time.

Christmas is going to be gluuum this year. I spend most of my work hours around awesome things like stacks and stacks of shiny toys and games and TVs and consoles and.. umm... full body waxing kits and I give customers all these fabulous things and I know that they are going to have a massively better Christmas than me because even with my staff discount, I can't afford squat.

Bah humbug, all I do around Christmas is worry about money and torment my brother, but even he is going to Paris this Christmas, the bastard.

Anyhoo, in the interest of saving money (I have £20 to buy presents for all my friends and family this year - fail) this is what I want for Christmas:

- Word of the day calendar: because seriously, those things are awesome and Our Lord Archer is forever telling me to expand my vocabulary because I'm working class and I can't let the middle class win by out-smarting me or something.

- Awesome keyring: My keys are currently the nosiest set of keys ever, with a digital photo frame, two keys, two huge Nightwish keyrings and a USB stick. The colour is all wrong. I want a REALLY BRIGHT KEYRING.

- More photo frames: I have this amazing five-panel one that Lemon got me for my birthday and now that it's filled with pictures of me, Anner, Mo-Balls, Lemon and Hooker (alternative name for BFF Main Gay.5) it sits around on my shelf and winks awesomeness at me.

- The Resistance by Muse: I've been waiting to be able to afford this album for three months = TOO LONG.

- Lots of AAA batteries: My MP3 player chews through these in minutes.

- A deck of cards: I'm forever borrowing other people's cards.

Bonus: The strength to withstand my ASSHOLE SISTER for another year.

No worries, I think she might get better with time.

Anyhoo, I have to go to my primary school's Christmas fair before heading down to The Duchess for muchos music and drink, so I'll be off now.

Happy Friday, peeps!

Red card.

I was walking around Monks Cross yesterday with fabulous hot chocolate when I thought to myself: "what would happen if you shaved the queen's head in her sleep?"

What would happen? Would you have to donate your hair to a wig, buy the wig, leave the country? Maybe you'd get beheaded. Anyway, it'd be a close shave (hahahaha - oh, nevermind).

Then I thought I saw Prince Philip (not likely, let me make that clear) so I started walking much faster before this very, very poncy guy started demanding I take his coat or something. I cannot deal with posh, toff-ish people.

Anyway, that's not what I was going to write about, because really, who would want to see the queen bald? She's not that good-looking to begin with.

(Shh... I didn't say that. That's like... treason or something.)

Today I'm going to tell you all about cards.

I usually have an hour or two free every day at school, and I always, always play card games. I'm pretty crappy at some games. I don't understand Hearts, for example. I'm okay at Snap, Irish Snap (believe me, there's a difference...), Shithead, Solitaire and Old Maid. I am, however, TOTALLY AMAZING at Spit and Bunty.

They're the faster games, slamming down cards and getting totally high on adrenaline is more or less how I spend my free periods. I'm good at Irish Snap and Snap when I play against normal people (note: my friends generally aren't normal).

So today, I managed to sustain an injury whilst playing Irish Snap against a first-time player.

Irish snap is like snap except you place down a card and say a number even if it isn't the same number on the card, the next person places a card down and says the next number (eg. 7, 8, 9, 10, Jack...) and so on. If the number called is the same as the card or you get two cards the same, you snap them and keep the cards. If you put your hand down at the wrong time, you place your hand in the middle and every player takes turns to hit your hand.

This isn't how I ended up covered in blood (some not my own, to be fair) though.

My friend Ginny is insanely competitive, p'haps more than me, and so when it came to the actual snapping we'd end up with red-raw hands from it. One time, we both went to snap the deck and her fingernail got caught between my fingers. Her fingernail snapped off and embedded in my hand and we were both left bleeding.

Cue calls of "Oh my-fuck, oww!" from both of us.

Fun, fun, fun.

I suffer in order to be a total pro at these games, believe me.

So today I gave someone an injury for being so totally awesome. That's the only conclusion I can come to.

Night'all.

I'm trying to help you, you dirty bitches.

I find it really, really difficult to level with people when they are being stupid.

Our Lord Archer is the same, he says it hurts his head to work as slowly as we do, but he's an asshat. And I mean that in a good sort of way.

Usually today I'd be helping P.Daddy with a year ten bottom set in maths but I really cannot deal with them anymore. They are stupid, cocky 14/15 year olds who think they're really, really tough but are insanely stupid.

I'd win in a fight, that's for sure.

I wouldn't mind if they were just a bit behind with maths or whatever, but instead they are stupid, socially inept children who actually cause me to fear for the future generations.

Instead, today I took off from school at lunchtime and went to work instead. So much better. 'Sides, I get paid.

Me and this guy at work have a running joke that he is incredibly active (hell no he isn't) and I'm insanely lazy (am SO not). So today I took over his usual position: reclining in a comfy chair with 20 Questions and my feet up on a ladder.

Instant reaction: "OH MY GOD YOU'RE SAT IN MY CHAIR, BITCH!"

"Damn straight I'm sat in your chair. Go look like your doing something, it's your turn."

Fun times.

Customers at Argos generally restore my faith in humanity. When an order goes well they're all smiley and funny and happy and when an order goes badly they're always understanding, or at least oblivious to my internal dialogue sending the one-in-a-million evil customer to the fiery pits of Hades.

Good people of Argos: I love you. Free DS Lites for everyone.

Also, one of the managers came in today and announced she was pregnant. Awesome. Congrats.

Whilst I'm being fairly optimistic I'll add that I have the single most awesome (I really love that word, don't I? Any suggestions for better words?) weekend lined up. Josh & Co. at The Duchess on Friday, Mostly Autumn at the Grand Opera House on Saturday and Breathing Space at The Duchess on Sunday. It'll be like one big bender, and I only have to work Saturday afternoon. ('Sides, work owes me some more money - SO making this weekend memorable, or otherwise)

The only downside is that it is now 10.30pm and I still have two essays to write for tomorrow. Being in full-time edu-ma-cation and working part-time means that I am living life-and-a-half. Time doesn't drag like it used to, and this is totally fine by me.

Bring it ooonnn, byotch.

Nearly totally forgot I was meant to be pretending to be a nice person today. Whups.

Well today I gave someone my Mars Bar. Not sure I really 'gave' it to them. More, I put it down on the table and when I looked back at it, it wasn't there and his breath smelt of chocolate.

Bastard.

At any rate, that wasn't all I gave today, because today I gave someone wings. Yes. That's right. Wings.

But I'm not going to go on about that, it was a last-ditch attempt at giving whilst I was still feeling friendly.

Instead I'm going to tell you about... ZE GREAT WINTER OF 2009!

Remember back in February when it was sensationally cold and there were blizzards n'shit?

Of course you do.

Well it's got cold again. It's not even a respectable kind of cold. It's an oh em gee it's so fricking coooooolllld - kind of cold. It's the kind of cold where you breathe and your head disappears.

Brrrr.

Not only is it cold, but York has flooded too. That's just peachy. The main road to get to school was flooded, so the buses were canceled, I was stood at the bus stop for a half hour before someone had the heart to tell me that I'd be walking all the way to school.

Damn it.



(Ice would be surprised how cold it was)

Long story short, it took an hour to navigate around all the iced-over puddles before showing up in film studies half way through the lesson. The best part was that my teacher was more worried about that fact that I was more or less blue than the fact that I was massively late. Win.

It took me three hours to warm up, and for all of those three hours I wanted nothing more or less than a Starbucks caramel hot chocolate with muchos whipped cream.

One word: Nom.