balls

What's new? Let's see. My hamster hates me, my editor makes me track down paeophiles on Sunday afternoon, my bank steals my debit card, my boyfriend is hundreds of miles away, and I haven't bled for far too long. Far, far too long. I think you know what I'm saying here. Bad.

I need wine, but I can't, for I'm on call. If someone dies, I've gotta go knock on the door of their closest relative. Gotta be sober for that, eh? Bah.

I shouldn't be so negative. Sorry. There's been a few good things. Richard did come up for a few days and we did go to the Shakespearean production at the castle. But he was really ill and we only lasted until intermission. Despite my best efforts to be classy and educated and classy, it failed miserably. I had brought a posh picnic of wine and cheese and strawerries, and even remembered cups and a bottle opener. But the cups must have fallen out of the bag and we were forced to swig from the bottle. And as for the educated bit, I couldn't follow the play at all and quickly got bored. Go me!

The next day I got out of work early and came home to spend time with Richard. But he was still ill and I was boring and we ended up doing nothing all night, before ending it all with a royal row and a horrid walk. Nice. Way to waste our precious little time together eh? It's always stupid stuff as well, stuff I make up in my head. There's no real substance to any fight we have - and by fight, I mean me ending up getting upset over nothing and crying and him trying to comfort me and getting upset when he can't succeed.

On Friday, we drove down to Glasgo, taking a new route, stopping at a castle along the way. It was really nice actually; I got to see parts of the country I've never seen before, and they were lovely parts as well. But it did drag on after about 5 or 6 hours.

When we arrived, we left again almost immediately. Went to see Kate, where we sat and ate junk and watched junk. Woo!

Saturday was slated to be a great day. A huge free concert in the park with two of my most favourite bands! I was quite looking forward to it. Not enough to get over my anti-social tendancies, of course. For, even though we found ourselves in a park packed with thousands of happy picnicking people, dozens of whom were our friends, we just sat at the back by ourselves. There were people flying in from far and wide, people we remotely knew and probably should have met, but we couldn't be bothered. Nope. We just sat where we were, barely able to even hear the speakers, definitely not able to see a thing, and that was fine. Later we ran into a few people, which was fine too, and I almost regretted not searching out more. Almost.

Later, we went to the usual social club for more bands and dancing. Feeling a bit daring, perhaps, we eschewed the usual seating arrangement - to sociable one that sees us sitting with a large group in the corner - and opted for a cozy little row near the bar, on the dance floor, with good views but few spare seats.

All was not lost, however, for despite all this I still managed to make a new friend! An adorable Japanese boy who I see at loads of gigs, but have never met. He's often alone, and was on this occasion as well. Seated temptingly close. So I just moved on over and started chatting and he was the sweetest thing ever. Smiled and giggled at everything I said, made me feel a star. We gossiped and chatted and danced. It was great!

It reminds me of the book I finished a few weeks ago. It was about a woman who was going through the breakdown of her marriage (perhaps not the best book for me to read, especially considering how impressionable I am) and the author suggested that the reason affairs are so tempting is because we want to reinvent themselves for someone new, who will rediscover us and be excited and keen to hear all our old stories.

I think there's some truth in that. I know I crave it sometimes. It's probably why I like to come online and flirt with dorky boys. I don't expect - or actually want - anything to come of it. In fact, even if presented with the real opportunity of an affair, I'd balk at it. I just like the interest and attention and impressing them with my stories. I like to feel new and exciting, instead of old and tired. Which is not to say that Richard doesn't give me attention or make me feel exciting. He does! He's so fantastic, more than I could ever hope for. Sometimes... I dunno... I just crave things. Is that so wrong?

Thank god for the internet. Otherwise, I'd get myself in trouble.

Where was I? Oh yes. Saturday. We left the club early as the heat was stifling. Stayed up late chatting and laughing and it was great actually! Slept in the next day then decided to go to the cinema to see a film I've been dying to see for ages. I thought it would be happy and life-changing, from all I'd heard. But it was so sad. I left in a funk that I just couldn't dispel. Add to that the fact that it was dinnertime when we got out and I had to leave in an hour to make the horrid journey home... alone. I threw myself onto Ricard's bed as soon as we got back to his flat and sobbed my eyes out. I'm a wreck!

The week that followed was pretty shite. Tommy on holiday, meaning I did all the work while Raymond was in court all day. Then there were two days when I had no work and spent all my time feeling guilty, desperately trying to find some. Dunno which is worse. I was also on call, which meant when a death notice was filed for a 23-year-old local boy, guess who was called at 8pm to go knock on the family door? Luckily they weren't home. But as soon as I got back in the car, a friend phoned, in tears. Guess everyone was having a bad week.

This weekend. Even fucking better. Dragged myself out of the house and into town yesterday to do a bit of shopping. Went to the bank to get some cashola and the bloody machine ate my card before going completely on the blitz!!! I then had to wait in a huge queue to even talk to someone about it, and when I did they couldn't or wouldn't get it out. And they were so fuckin condescending about it too. Blamed me for not keeping it in good condition - it's practically brand new, mind - and then had the gall to ask if I wanted to upgrade my account as I'd have to wait two weeks for a replacement anyway. I bitchily informed them that I wasn't considered good enough for a real account cos of their fucking fucked up fuck credit check system and they finally let me alone. Bastards. So, two weeks with no money card.

Today I had to work. With scary editor who made me do ridiculous pointless things, like tryng to track down a paedophile. ON A SUNDAY! Only to realise we couldn't print the allegations anyway. Bastard.

They're all bastards. I wish I could quit. I wish I could move. I wish I could be sure that this cramping is not the result of a little baby Richard kicking about without having to fork out some insane amount of money on home tests. I wish I wish I wish.

Tommorrow is gonna suck. This time it will be Raymond on holiday, Tommy hungover, with loads of stories to do and me tied up in court for hours. Joy! That, and an expensive hairdressing appointment during lunch.

I should be exercising. Arnold builds forts to hide from me and shits everwhere when I try to put him in his ball for a bit of fun. It ain't no fair, this life thing, is it?