GRRR!

I was reluctantly plucking at a woolly cardy in Asda last night after English class, chucking it into a basket with another top equally as reluctantly dropped in, but it's getting cooler now and the art studio's temperature fluctuates a tad.
So I wandered scowling towards the fitting rooms to try on the cheap and somewhat nasty sheep by product that was my only vague option for attire, when an employee mentioned that their fitting rooms were closed.
Poxy place!
24 hour, but you can't try on clothes.
"Oh right then," I huffed as I dropped the basket from waist height onto the floor right there, and grabbing a packet of socks I flounced off.

I might have over reacted.

Pet My Quim.

I drove past a pub this evening and happened to notice its name.
The Spread Eagle.

I mean really!

My english tutor commented that all the input/noise from the class was coming from my direction as she asked what was up with a few of the ladies sat at the back all quiet. I'm thinking I should probably tone down the answers a little, and the questions. I feel like a bit of a teacher's pet by accident. But with only six people in a class, and the tutor hovering over the meaning behind this or that line and silence throughout the room broken only by quim squirming, then I kinda want to shout up. I'm already holding back, but perhaps i should just shut it all together. I can be an insuferable known it all sometimes. Not because i'm crap, but because I can be highly competative.

Belting night out...

I went out clubbing last night with my brother and you'll never guess what happened.

I only got asked my age on the door by the bouncers!
"You what? I'm thirty!"

Very amusing. Possibly the highlight of the entire night.
I think it was the incredibly beltesque short skirt I was wearing. If I span too much there was buttock flashing, and a hip wiggle resulted in much fun swaying of skirt layers.
Right.
Raymond Carver to read before English class tomorrow. Oh and a lino print to carve out. I'd better get on.

PoohBear's brown package.

An actual freelance textiles artist, training to become a teacher, looked through my work yesterday and asked me whether I've considered being a freelance illustrator.

How cool is that?

She was very matter of fact, giving me tips like getting an agent, but also warning me how discriminatory it is in the field when people find out you are a mother.

It's weird to have professionals talk to you as if becoming something that's a bit of a dream to you is the most natural and obvious thing in the world to them.
"Oh yes, this is good. Have you thought of becoming a freelance illustrator at all?"

Does a bear shit in the woods?

My man is coming to stay from tonight, and things are going to become a little campingesque as I have no bedrooms yet due to delayed plumber bastards.
I can't wait to see him.
I'm like a small child in a car on the way to the seaside.
With less pant wetting.
Now I'm off to take some before shots of the upstairs rooms!

Woot... as they used to say

Je suis... online.
Now I'm not actually living at my own home, so the fact that I can smurf from there is somewhat cruel, but at least it's sorted for the future!

Now then.
The ladies at my eng lit course are an eclectic bunch, as you would expect. And most of them seem to know each other from the AS class.
There's another girl who I seemed to 'bond' with a bit last time who is new to the group. One late fourties lady seems to know everything and has pink tufts in her blond hair. There's one who sort of scares me. She has a strangly nodding head and piercing gaze. There's the trendy one, who turned up in a cute african style long dress over jeans, something i keep meaning to try myself but never will. A couple more fill out the numbers.. but fuck knows who they are. We didn't get a 'getting to know you' session.
Then there's the tutor herself. A really scatty short sticatto woman who seems stern, but fair. Not the happy laughing class that my AS was like however.
I do know what I'm talking about there though. Something that suprised me a little last Monday. Even though they've all read this and that and know the other, I'm the one who answers questions on text, asks questions, etc.
Go me, heh.
Although why is reading aloud so nerve wracking?

There's one bloke in my art course who I seem to get on with more than others, although they are all actually really good people. Even the slightly homophobic one with printing issues. It's not his fault, he was raised that way. The other guy and I are the only adults now, as another woman dropped out, so we often can be seen rolling our eyes at the 'kids' in accomodating fashions, and we both have 'Carry On Camping' esque minds.
Now i must dash.
I have a lino print to chizzel out and a boyfriend to pester on the phone.

Smokin'

I actually 'lost time' last night while my boyfriend and I shared many intimate moments together. For like three hours or something!

Then I spazzed out and dry retched in a sink whilst being unale to catch my breath.
I don't thing it was the most attractive look ever.

This morning I woke up with a large carpet burn on my spine, a touch of a hangover and I'm walking like John Wayne.

My Name Is Not Lawrence Lewelyn Bowen

Why did I think I could pull off a deep purple 'signiture' fireplace wall?
WHYyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

I shall be attacking said eyesore with Buttermilk emulsion once the rather large lumps of debris have been removed from the upstairs. Two beds in the process of becoming three. In hopefully as many weeks. Fingers crossed.
Meanwhile, me and mine are back at Mums for overnighters. It's um... cosy!
Brother had his tonsils out, but has currently taken a turn for the worst and is back at A&E for a double check as I type.
Um.
College, despite all upheaval and madness, is going remarkably well. Eng lit evening course less so. The atmos is nothing like my last course, and the other four ladies attending are a touch... 'eh?'
Plus I was told that because I've changed examination boards my previous AS might not even count. My mouth dropped at the time. A years worth of slogging my guts out for nothing I hear you cry? Oh yay. But fret not, because apparently I can do the AS all over again alongside my A2.
Yeah.
Right.
Kiss my puckered pink one.

BT is still having problems with my phone line. Virgin are telling me there is still a 'delay'. If I should ever meet Richard Branson I will not be held responsible for my actions. I wouldn't mind but i actually have a LOT of art to research and no time to use the college's LRC suite. Am currently on mother's pc again, but not for long.

Sigh.
I could use a slice of normality sometime soon. Not that likely though.

Good Grief

I'm an old behatch.
I turned 30 yesterday (thank you Creepy dear x).

Well!
Not a great deal I feel like adding to that right now. I'm sure i'll come out with something incredibly witty as the week rolls on and I get used to 'approaching forty'.
Or i'll ignore it and pretend it's going away.
I got some lovely presents from family and my other half. All very thoughtful, and I kinda want to keep them private so i'll not say what.
I've a decorator coming round on Monday to strip the god awful wallpaper from poor walls that are to be my bedroom. He'll be spending three days working for me on various things in the house that I either can't or won't do. Lovely man too. One of those salt of the earth types. Bit like my neighbour. Ooo i should take before and after pictures! I've bought all the paint today too.

Thursday night was the first night i have been able to feel 'at home' in my new house. And it was because my man was there, the music was playing, and the candles were lit. Repeatedly! Everything suddenly seemed so calm and 'good'. My guy does that to me. Makes me feel really REALLY peaceful. As though nothing in the world will go wrong. It's more than feeling happy.
Friday night, my birthday night, was spent wonderfully. Chinese take out, candles, wine, boyfriend, cuddles, and a cult movie Big Trouble In Little China.
Perfect.
His tranquility stays with me for awhile too. Even after he's gone.

Walls and spaces

Oh and I almost forgot to add...
I found out my results yesterday.
68% for Psychology, 69% for Sociology and a handful of passes for my counseling courses. I'm pleased. I think pass mark was 50% for those interested, and anything between 60 - 70 is working at undergraduate level.

Art college is strange. Doing something for hours that seems so much like play. Pissing about drawing all day long and chatting aimlessly about toilets seems to be the main theme. The bad points? Well the slight boredom, but that will pass no doubt as we move onto harder things, and the expence. Nothing is provided by the college/government. I mean nothing. We were told yesterday that we'd have to pay for paper. 20p a sheet. And the temporary paints we are allowed to use whilst we stock up on our own and spend a small fortune are utter shite. I've seen playgroups with a better stock room.
Year two of this course sounds like fun though. Each student gets his or her own work space; this walled in little work bench where you cover it in your creations. We in year one year have our own locker without padlocks. Joy!
I have to go buy a toolbox now to put all the art shit in. Oh and some overalls. Or maybe a pair of loose dungerees with paint splatters all over them. Going for Artist Chic. I'm doing ceramics on Monday. Exciting!

In other house related news..
The 80 year old freak piss carpet has been removed and the floorboards are Detolled and waiting for a carpenter to come round and fix one of the offending blighters. Fingers crossed that's on Saturday. I currently have no bedroom however, and my boyfriend is coming up tonight to stay for two nights to help. He's not seen this place yet as we live quite far apart from each other (have i mentioned that before?) and I'm a little disappointed that I seem to be getting in more of a state as the week has gone on, but what can one do? Can't wait to see him though.

[Tumble weed floats past]

You never write, you never call. This is all so onesided. I've had enough.

So have you missed me?
Have you been waiting with bated breath for my triumphant, enigmatic and anti-climactic return? Yes me too.
Lets see.
I've moved house and started art college.
I have been the most continually tired i've ever been in my life.
I am an art genius.
That last bit might not be true, however I have had lots of lovely positive feedback from tutor and students alike. My banana was good enough to eat and my melon pips could be plucked from the page. However. My first project brief consists of the natural form as seen in fruit and has to be completed in five weeks. This includes filling (every space) an A4 sketch pad and having numerous large studies. Five weeks of fruit. I'm three days in and somewhat bored. Ah well. The other students are interesting. And apparantly i've already pulled what looks to be a snobbish 12 year old with social issues who probably still gets Mummy to wipe his ring piece for him. Go me.
I have much to write, mostly about my new students, but alas i'm on borrowed time. (Chicken curry is ready and this is Mums pc).
Still no sky, nor internet connection at mine.
Oh and now i have no bedroom carpet as the 80 year old skank ho who lived there before me pissed all over it and soaked through to the underlay. I finally realised why i couldn't stand my bedroom's smell, even after being carpet shampooed by professionals and am taking steps. I have so much gloss work to do it's frightening.
Also, I want my bedroom to have a moroccan feel to it with rich royal dark purples and reds, and am thinking a deep purple painted wood floor. Mother however is rather scared of my bold ideas and keeps looking at me in alarm. It's my first house that's solely mine to do with as i like, so I might just have to go a little .... arty!

THREE DAYS LEFT [Defcon One]

Almost a whole week between posts!
That's like, against my religion or something.

Not only that, but from Friday i will be sans internet. That's right. No blogging, no msning, and infrequent emailing (when i can steal my mother's pc). How on earth will I manage? And how will you, dear gentle lonely reader manage? We'll telepathically hold hands and get through this troubled time.

Virgin Dot Net are fuckwits. Even though i gave them plenty of notice regarding my impending move, they only process it after 'terminating' the service at my current abode. Then they need seven to ten days to resume broadband at the new home.
[rolls eyes]

So Manchester Pride was 'done' at the weekend.
The parade wasn't as good as last year. And the main stage was lacking somewhat too. Although that picked up later. Still no excuse for having wank bits in the entertainment.

I had a moment with my GBF Mark though.

We've not seen each other since college, and we literally ran at each other from across the main stage and hurled ourselves into each others arms like a soft focused deodorant advert. And then proceded to immediately dry hump each other in public. Ah. The joys of having a gay best friend who isn't a relation. My brother's face was a picture. He looked a little shocked. As did a few other people. But there were whoops too, which I take full credit for of course.

The saturday evening was spent with wild gay abandon in our favourite club Essential.

We were tempted to go to Uni Challenge like last year, but fancied familiar ground instead, and knew that the music would be of a high standard along with the atmos. We weren't disappointed. Possibly the best nights clubbing all year for me. I wasn't naseous once. (A big deal for me on metformin)
Rolled into bed happily at half four.
"Oh yes. I still got it" thought I.

The next day, and I reviewed that opinion. Head wise i was absolutely mint, but my body was another matter. I was peeing for England every half an hour and physically ached from head to foot as though a large bear had spooned and hugged me all night in its death grip. And then shat in my mouth.
I must be out of condition. There's me thinking that fairly regular energetic sex would make up for a lack of exercise regiem. Alas. The rigours of five hours dancing and walking about during the day followed by five hours of frantic clubbing that evening sort of proved otherwise. I have more pics on my mobile, but it's new and I can't get them off just yet. Current pics are courtesy of my brother and are on Flickr down the side bar.

I did mean to go back into town sunday daytime, but I needed to recover. I had too much to do on Monday to lose another day 'recovering'. There will be other Prides. Other gay men to adore me. *flutters eyelashes*
Boyfriend couldn't come with for Pride which obviously sucked the big one, but i figure we will have many more Prides to share in the future. Just like there will be many more V festivals shared. And yes. That would be me talking about extremely long term future plans! *nods* Thats how well we are getting on. Well actually, that doesn't even touch a tenth of how well 'us' is going but hey.

The Monday was spent sorting out my garage for the move. Three dump trips and half a day later, and Mum and I were sorting through clothes to be taken to the third world by some dude coming round on a Thursday. Five white bin liners full. I was a tad ruthless though. I do have a ruthless streak occasionally.
Boyfriend came over for the evening, and all was right with the world again.

Then today.
TODAY.
I wish to spit on the memory of today.
Today was enrolment day at City College Manchester. So, because they screwed up my application in admissions, I hadn't been guaranteed a place on the evening class I wanted to take. A fairly important evening class and one I am really looking forward to. I was told it was a popular one, and that I should come early to avoid disappointment. So, me and my entourage schlepped (yes there it is again) ourselves down midday and began the enrolment procedure. Four hours later and I was told I couldn't complete enrolment because my housing benefit award letter wasn't recent enough. New stricter rules apparently. The proof has to be as recent as issued after the first of August. Now anyone whose been on benefits will know that the council aren't exactly free with their letters. But what really infuriated me was that the woman at the first desk should have pointed that out to me within five minutes of being there. Not four hours later surrounded by screaming kids reluctantly forced to eat paperwork for sustanence. There was this little deaf kid who was awful. Kept screaming, running a pram with dirty fat child in it all over the place, banging into people trying to fill out 50 forms each with only their full name as a weapon. Her mother was this chav draped in a shiny silver tracksuit, with dirty hair scraped back in a ponytail (Croyden facelift), screaming occasionally herself at the child without moving her enormous bulk from the straining chair. I felt bad for wanting to slap the woman, as i mispelled my last name due to my toe being run over by said buggy. Perhaps the poor chav was so heavy that she'd stuck fast to the chair and was too embarressed to ask for assistance, determined to eat away the pain with another packet of maltesers and a red bull. A red bull by the way which she proceded to feed to the fat infant in the buggy as well as the demon runner.
I have to admit I nearly cried when I was told to go away, and come back with more forms stamped from the job center.
FUCKING FUCKWITS.

Also.
What the hell is with junction five on the M60 ????? Did an imbecile create that patch of road system? Or someone with a sick sense of humour perhaps. It would appear, and PLEASE someone correct me if I am wrong (Goddy), that you cannot turn left off this junction and head into Didsbury down Princess Street. You are only allowed to follow this helter skelter which turns you about fifty times beyond all Sat Nav/Map reading capabilities, and spits you out near Birmingham. At one point I had to veer alarmingly as the M56 threatened to engulf me.
West Didsbury was so near and yet so far. So on the way home, I went back an old familiar route that i'd not traveled in quite some time. The old route that I used to drive to see the Ex in Chorlton. I did keep an eye out in case there was a chance i could do a road rage hit and run incident involving him, but nada.
What can I say? I was in an extremely irritated mood this afternoon after the four hour trauma.
Colleges.
Wouldn't know how to organise having a crap.

I think the worst part about today was losing an entire packing day. Three days left, and a million things to do.
Which reminds me.
I must ring my art tutor in the morning as i've no idea when to turn up on Monday.
Bed beckons with a book right now though.
Night anyone who managed to read this far!

Warning: Tipsy post alert.

I've been round my friend Vanda's house tonight. We've not met up since college what with one thing or another and it was great to catch up. I've missed her terribly.
Once i've moved i'll be staggering distance from hers, so that'll be handy!
Plus amusingly I have agreed to schlepping (tell me you know what schlepping is, as The Guy didn't) myself and The Guy to Taylors, the god awful social club that's a stones throw from both our houses to join her and her new boyfriend in a bit of a piss up. Vanda's not met him yet, and since she's known of him since february this year I think she's chomping at some kind of bit.
Luckily for all our cultural and street cred sakes I also managed to suggest we actually go out for a meal together. However I get the feeling that a night in round mine with six bottles of red is more likely to be on the cards. The woman is a lush! In a lovely way of course.

God Taylors.
That night was recounted to Vandas other half Ian this evening.
The night were I was more drunk than I've been in years thanks to Vanda's neighbours bringing their own bottle of bacardi.
The night where I didn't make it to my own home, but went round me mums and chucked up in her sink full of washing up instead.

In the absence of sleep...

...I drew a Native American.
As ya do.
I do so love line drawing. Sigh.

Gloves, and tight boxes [or] TEN DAYS LEFT

They say moving house is right up there as one of the most stressful events you can do. Just under losing a loved one to death or divorce. But I'm not finding this one tooooooo bad. Obviously it's mentally messy, but could be worse.
So if moving house comes easier the more often you do it, then these people on wife/husband number five plus must be sailing through the bad times.
My current move has suddenly and slightly alarmingly kicked up a notch.
I'm not at defcon one yet, more like... two and a half, but mentally my brain is all over the place.

I have a check list downloaded from one of those 'helpmeiammoving.com' sites. A list of people to phone and notify.
It's huge.
21 items long and I'm sure there are some missing.
I started making phone calls today at 10am and gave up after 4.30pm. A few were ticked off. And major score for me. I managed to wheedle a free Sky installation and brand new box! Was meant to cost 40 quid and I should have used my old box (which has run out of warranty). The guy was everso nice. I have a feeling he liked me. I realised quite quickly he had a fairly severe stammer and I'm aware that stammer sufferers often hate it when people fill in the words for them. I let him finish his sentences in his own good time. Maybe it was that, or it's more likely he keyed in the wrong option and couldn't be arsed to change it.

I got hold of City College too today, and found out that there had been an oversight with my application, but that if I popped along to the enrollment day next week early enough I might still be ok for a place in my English evening class. I'm REALLY looking forward to it. More than my art course but then, as my mum says, that could be because I know I like the English A level whereas the Art is a bit of a leap. Plus I'm looking forward to meeting more adult students in that class. I'm hesitant about the 16 - 19 year olds that my Art course will hold. GULP.
I know, blah blah blah. I don't half whitter on about the same old shit don't I!

I was stomping round the house like an obese troll with PMS, in DMs earlier. Not happy.
I was reading happily through my series of David Eddings books, currently having finished the Belgariad, and most of the way through the first book of The Malloreon, when I put it carefully to one side. Unfortunately, because reading lends me a temporary shroud of calm and peace, I tend to take my book all over the house with me, snatching snippets from the page whenever I can. This meant that even though I carefully left book two of The Malloreon to one side for later, I managed to sweep up my current book amongst a pile of others and pack it in a box.
Typical.
It's been awhile since I last read the entire series of ten or twelve books back to back as well, so I'm not entirely sure what happens. I'll probably end up guessing out of desperation and skip to book two anyway. Like in say, half an hour. Holed up cozy in bed propped with pillows.
Still.
I was not impressed. Even though I know I've only got eleven days left till it's possible to be reunited with it. I can't fish it out now, as my mother has taken the boxes with her round to hers to get them out of the way.
Any avid readers out there will know my pain!

The Guy has returned from V festival in one piece, although I have yet to see him. It feels like ages ago again. So long that I'll feel a little shy seeing him on Friday when I drive down. Maybe. The space, even though it was small, has sort of reminded me a little of what it was like before we met. Not that I was unhappy before or lonely as such. Which is the point isn't it. I wasn't looking for love. I didn't need it to validate my existence, for acceptance, approval by a third party before I'll approve myself. I was very happily getting on with my life. But because of that, because I was already content, I'm so aware of what, well, enrichment I've now gained since being with him. In so many ways. We compliment each other. As Ace Venturer might say: "Like a Glove!" Um. You can take that anyway you like!
*cough*

I'm haunted by my dreams. I have been for the past few months. Always vivid. Always remembered.
Last night was particularily bad. I moved house into this delapidated old victorian place full of properly spooky cobwebs, and stairs going up to level upon level. Anyway, to cut a rather long and intense dream short, it was haunted and the Ghost stole a small member of my family away and i was frantic trying to find her. The relative was locked in an attic wardrobe high at the top of the house. Not a pleasant dream at all. Perhaps my unconsious is trying to tell me that my facade of coping is coming to an abrupt end!

TGIF

Yesterday was results day.
It didn't go to plan of course.
That college has severe organisational issues. After trying to ring all morning, I finally got through to find out that they'd left the phone system on 'night phone'. With all the A Level students trying to call that was enough of a blunder really. Then when I managed to ask about my results, all the woman could say to me apart from repeatedly calling me something odd like 'deary' or 'prescious' was that i'd passed my access course. Yeah. Thanks for that! Now how about someone tell me what I don't know? Not like i've been working for this for a year and a half or nothing.
[cue rolling eyeballs]
So, not being able to get any more info on grades/marks/my entire counseling course, through from the computer, I asked whether I should come into the college to pick up the certificates and details, or would they be sent to me. She didn't know. How can you not know? What's more was, she wasn't prepared to find out either. Told me to ring back in a few days or next week.
Charmed.

Good bit of news.
The contract's exchanged and the move is all set! Key's are booked to be in my sweaty palms by the 1st. Removals booked for the 2nd. Carpet cleaners booked for the 1st.
[ed: I don't usually have sweaty palms!]
Why does everything have to come at once though? I've got five days to sort out my car insurance renewal. Which means coming up with a lump deposit. Doh!

Last Chance Saloon

I texted my lovely college friend Vanda the other day.

"Erm when are we meant to be getting our results? And do we pick them up or are they sent? I was thinking we could drive in together. X"

She sent me a load of consonants back that I finally managed to unravel into meaning that the 17th was The Day.
I hate it when people use 'text talk'. Although I will occasionally take out spaces after full stops if need be. Bad me! My landlord doesn't bother with full stops at all. Which is helpful.
Anyhoo!

So Thursday is the day huh?
I wonder whether I'm nervous?
I suppose I would be had the tutors not blatantly told us who had passed and who hadn't. In a way it's taken some of the fun out of it all. I'll still be interested to see the actual marks though. Bigging myself aside, knowing I managed to get the highest Psychology mark helps. The only one I don't know about is counseling. That exam being the most bizarre event known to a governing body ever of course. On my own in a room with an adjudicator who was receiving mobile phone calls, reading through my work, listening to work men painting the hallway with their stereos on so all I had was 'I'm An Alien, I'm A Legal Alien' going round in my head, and the adjudicator telling me ten minutes from the end that she'd let the time run over until I was finished all made for one wacky exam. Not that she needed too might I hastily add.
Not forgetting her then telling my waiting tutor outside that she had a good feeling about me, and that she occasionally had psychic flashes and 'knew' things, and this was one of those times. Not that I'm mocking the supernatural of course. Let the lovely little brown hair bobbed and bespectacled middle aged woman with the pleated skirt and flat pumps be right, I say. I'll happily cavort naked round some burning effigy if it secures decent grades.

So the 17th should be interesting.

Technically I should be starting uni this year, but I'm very happy to check out this other art avenue first before I plunge into any decisions concerning direction in uni. It's unnerving knowing that this is your last chance. Educationally speaking. That's what it feels like to me. It's why I'm so driven. And to be honest, there is something addictive and compelling about fulfilling courses and totting up shit loads of points to present to some uni in the future. ME WANT MORE POINTS. But yes, I was saying, last chance. When you're young and in education I think there's an element of 'oh whatever, lets see what happens', and there's always the knowledge that you can change career path later on. Study something else if need be. Well this is sort of it for me. Or so it feels. There is no 'later on'. Now or Never. So I'm going to be damn sure I've covered every angle possible before I launch into things.
(Says she after an impulsive move across the country to be near an ex almost two years ago)

Well.
I'm speaking educationally here!
Romantically speaking, I'm still the daft brush that runs head long into love. Although these days I've realised that all the other's in the past weren't true love. How corny is that then! Stop retching at the back.
I refuse to make this post soppy.
Although I would like to mention at this juncture that The Guy is driving up tomorrow night to see me before he goes off to V festival. I'm not going with him (this year). It was all booked and stuff pre-me. Well before we became so joined at the emotional hip anyway. Luckily there's all manner of stuff to get done this end in the next few weeks concerning the move, so I should have my mind distracted from missing him too much. Which of course is utter bollocks as he is always at the forefront of it anyway. Strange that isn't it? Getting on with usual things, and thoughts, but having someone else tangled into those thoughts so tightly they never really leave your mind.

My birthday's coming up.
I believe I might have mentioned it once or twice before! Ahem. Send all wellwishes and postcards etc.
I'm thinking that I won't be able to celebrate it properly around the actual date (8th Sept) due to the move, college starting, high school, nursery, and one brother (essential to a good night out) being in hospital having his tonsils removed. Oh it's all go round here you know.
So.
Bringing it forward to the first available weekend means Manchester Pride will see me celebrating not only the fact that my brother is a raving shirt lifter and I'm proud of him, nor just the fact that I look good in a mini skirt and biker boots, but also that it's my 30th.
It'll be a big weekender!
I might wind up not seeing my 31st!

[ed: Jesus this post is enormous. I do apologise. If you reached the end and this message then you get a sticker]

P.S. Huge hello to Howie in Rome if he's reading this. The Charles to my eleven year old Diana from Friends Reunited. Crazy small world.

Spare 11p?

And how was Monster House 3D at the Printworks, I hear you ask?

A hellova lot less scary than it could have been. My repeated warnings to take the glasses off if it gets a bit much weren't necessary. I did guess the entire plot after three minutes too. Always a downer. Even with kids movies you kinda hope for a twist or two or something comedic for the adults. There was one joke for adults, except that it involved ladygardens so really it was just a joke for women then.
Other than that? It was a good film. Visually stunning etc. Worth seeing, but could have been improved upon.

Pizza Hut afterwards... and those dippy square pizzas are really delicious. The whole thing was a tad expensive though so I once again find myself skint. Actually, I enjoy spending money on an outing, or a meal, or something pleasurable. But my mother is the tightest woman alive, and begrudges spending anything to have a good time. This resulted in me having to largely ignore her moans about the price and the fact that she just stuck to a side salad for dinner. Well, that's what she ordered, but of course I made her eat the main pizza dippy thing too. It was successful though. All told.
So a tram ride home, and that was yesterday.

I'm knackered this morning. The chronic tiredness hasn't stopped yet. The occasional nausea and breathlessness continues. If I didn't know better I'd say I was pregnant (but I'm most definitely not). That's the type of feeling it is. Draining tiredness.
Vit B12 deficiency huh? Who knew those pesky B vitamins were so important.
Well I'm swathed in a white fluffy dressing gown, and cbeebies is on, so I might go and have a little relax on the couch...... Yawn.

Holding my breath..

.. for him.


And i just don't get why anyone would ever let him go. I simply don't understand it. At all.

Illustration Friday: Capture

I'm sensing a running theme here.
Are you?
Anyway, due to it being a wide pic, if you'd like to see it better then just click the image and it'll take you to a bigger version.
Ta muchly.

I'm not producing anything with much depth to it now am i!
Last week's 'clean' acrylic on canvas is still half finished. I'm just not in a very deep mood I suppose.

Have i mentioned...

... that I'm going to be turning the big three oh in just under a months time?
Yup.
I will be officially in my thirties.
It seems such a short slide downhill to being in my fourties and middle aged!
But.
Aren't women at their sexual peak in their thirties and fourties?
Does this mean i'm going to be climaxing at the drop of a hat? Or perhaps the drop of a trouser? Am I going to turn into this insensed sexual being that thinks of nothing but sweet sweet lovin' from her man indoors? Can i possibly BE more randy than I am now? [read in manner of Chandler from Friends]
My poor boyfriend.
It's a good job the man has stamina!

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This weeks Illustration Friday topic is 'Capture'. I am feeling very unenlightened (is that even a word?), so if anyone wishes to come up with inspiration for me then please do. I have today and some of tomorrow in which to illustrate it, if i'm going to at all this week.
(Easy now Backroads.. I know the topic is possibly vaguely sexual in nature but take a deep breath!)