hostel

Quentin Tarantino is a sick little monkey.

sick

Lately I've been sick with what I've dubbed "the knee flu".

Knee Flu???

I haven't been able to walk properly for days - the pain is beyond description. I thought I had an early onset of arthritis. My doctor corrected this self-diagnosis - "just flu" he said.

I haven't told anyone about the sore throat that accompanied my ailment. That would just leave things wide open for an onslaught of snickering and fellatio jokes.

I'm not in the mood, honey.

And my boyfriend is not that lucky :)

chicken

only eating the processed variety now.

what i don't know can't hurt me, right?

also really big on hotdogs lately.

in it deep

I hate confrontation.

Perhaps more than most, but not for the reasons you might think.

In actual fact, I love the drama of it. I’ll script out the scenario over and over in my head. Just like Days of Our Lives. I’ll tell you in as long-winded a way as possible, using lots of heavy words, how you wronged me. And you’ll throw yourself at my feet and beg for my forgiveness, offering yourself up as my slave for the rest of eternity.

Of course it never goes quite that way once the camera starts rolling, because I haven’t given you the latest script I rewrote six times on the way over here. I’ll try and slip in a perfectly composed monologue, but somehow it just doesn’t seem to fit anymore, and you wouldn’t respond the way I intend you to anyway.

When it comes down to it, you will stammer an apology and I will be the one to cry. Because I’m emotional like that. It’s uncontrollable. Did anyone else cry in King Kong?

And this is why, quite often, I’ll just put up with it. Not because I’m concerned for the other person’s feelings. Not because I’m afraid of telling people what I really think. Because I don’t want them to see me cry.

So when I do actually confront you, you’ll know you’re REALLY in the shit.

it's not about the pain

Walking through the mall just now (obviously not at work like I should be) I came across a group of young thangs, the leeder of this group a guy in a beenie swinging an umbrella around and around like he’s singing in the rain, only indoors, and there was no singing.

I stumble across strange thoughts when less important things (like work) fail to occupy my mind. On this occasion it was thus: if I were to receive a gouge in the eye by the pointy end of his brolly,

what would my scream sound like?