Sunday, April 13, 2008


So, the black eye is gone. I'd like to say I'm going to miss it but I'd be lying. I've had enough of walking around looking at the ground hoping that I've somehow rendered myself invisible because I'm not looking anyone in the eye. Although on the way back from Brighton I decided I couldn't be fucked to wear purple eyeshadow (God bless purple eyeshadow by the way) or trowel on the make up so I just got on the train with my black eye on show. For all to see. It was so weird. It got more and more ram up the closer we got to London and no one, I mean no one, wanted to sit with me. I had four whole seats to myself which was lovely but slightly disconcerting when people are sitting on each others heads because there is no room. It reminded me so much of Fight Club when the Narrator goes on a booner about people not wanting to look at you when you're totally mashed up. I imagine they thought that I'd blow the train up with soap or something.

However, I have swapped one very visible bruise for about 100 not quite as visible ones. I went pole dancing yesterday and I've ended up with a massive fuck off bruise on my thigh. I don't think I've had one quite so impressive since the Summer. I also have four teeny, tiny bruises on my feet. I don't mind them so much. I think they're quite sweet. The one on my thigh just makes me look like I came off rather badly in a cage fight. 

Pole dancing is ace though. It's really fun and totally easy to pick up (which may end up being a bad thing. I can see myself swinging from lampposts when I'm reallyfuckingdrunk). It also gives me the opportunity for conversations like,

Random: How do you manage to get yourself so far up the pole?
Me: I've had a lot of practice at sliding up and down big poles

and so on and so forth. It keeps me amused. Obviously I did wake up this morning feeling like I'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson because I clearly used muscles that I didn't even know I had. Nice. 

I wasn't quite so sure how well this'd go down with the parental units though. Irish, Catholic, God fearing etc. I told my longsuffering Mum and she sighed in a sort of 'I'm resigned to her ridiculousness by now' manner and said, "Can't you just go to aerobics like a normal person? Actually, don't answer that". I left the job of telling my Dad to her. I don't think it's really an image you want to associate with your eldest daughter. Also, she may end up turning her back on her £20k+ education that you paid for to work in Spearmint Rhino accepting cars as trinkets from old men who are old enough to know better. He has, in his infinite battiness, taken the whole thing in his stride and finds it the most hilarious thing he has ever heard. He has even gone so far as ringing practically ALL the relatives in the Motherland. I can only hear one side of the conversation but it goes something like, 

"How'reya? Ah well, you'll never guess what she's done now. What? No, no I don't tink so. Hang on I'll ask.....Shuv, are you in da family way?......No, no she's not up the pole no. Gwan, guess. Gwan! You'll never guess. Gwan. No. No. NO! Alright den, pole dancing! I know. Tis gas altogether! In da nude? I don't tink so. Hang on.....Hi, HI SHIV. IS IT IN DA NUDE?.....No, not in da nude tis in da rigout she has on now. She looks awful tin in dat rigout dough. I don't know how she has da strength to get herself up da pole at all at all. Anyway. Dats all our news. Is dare anyone dying or getting married?"

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of meeting my Dad or a person with an obscenely strong Irish accent a dictionary:

Gas - funny
Rigout - outfit
Tin - thin

Luckily he refrained from ringing my Nana. I think the shock would probably push her over the edge and in to praying 23 hours of the day as opposed to her current 19. 

I've also taken the momentous decision of buying a new ipod. I'm not going to mug myself off and get an ipod touch. I reckon it'll be 80 gig black classic. I'll probably shed a tear when I put my current one in to retirement. She's had a good run though. Even if she is as heavy as a slightly overweight rabbit. I thought about getting something engraved on it. Because I can. I was going to get, "This is an outrage" or "Two minutes in Heaven is better than one minute in Heaven". However, the most cultured lady I know has suggested, "I'm a bloody genius". I think this is because she is always calling me a genius. I'm not really. She just doesn't know how to use an external hard drive. She can't help it. Anyway, any other suggestions are most welcome. However, any that are along the lines of, "I'm a massive cunt", will render the suggester devoid of any contact with me for the next 6 months. I'm looking at you here Bunnyboy. 

No comments: