Soleil

So. I came to quite an important decision today. I decided to sell my spare Polaroid on Ebay. I've been umming and ahhing about it for quite some time. In fact, I've probably made a far bigger thing out of it than I should have. It's just a standard Polaroid but, like everyone, I love the fact you can take stupid, ridiculous photos with it and have them in your hand right there and then. And I'm afraid the other one I have will break...but, I've not used it since I was about 16 and I decided to be mature and pragmatic as opposed to hold on to it waiting for something I never use to break. Ergo if you're on the look out for a BNIB Silver Polaroid 600 Extreme (I totally chiefed the free film in the box about 100 years ago) get your people to talk to my people. Maybe we can cut a deal.

Talking of photos - Snappy Snaps totally saw me coming this week when I DESPERATELY had to print some pictures for cowtack's birthday. Seven photos. Five pounds. I felt so violated I couldn't walk properly the whole weekend.

So Bright Town wasn't half as raucous as it normally is. Basically Friday was the Devil's Day. Nothing actually happened to me but some seriously fucking shit stuff happened to my friends which left me a bit gutted. 

It may also have something to do with me accidentally getting drunk on Friday night with cowtack's boyfriend. We got through the vodka so decided it'd be a good time to start in on the bacardi. Then we finished that and thought that seeing as I'd lived in France n stuff that maybe we should drink the posh wine they'd brought back from their last booze run. And then I don't really remember much after that although I do know cowtack sat with her head in her hands at the kitchen table pleading for us not to get fucked as we wouldn't be on top form for Saturday. Amateur. Of course we were on top form. 

We drank steadily the whole day until I was pleasantly wasted enough to play Guitar Hero at about 3am. Is it sad to hear Cherub Rock by the Pumpkins and say to someone, "I can play this on Guitar Hero"? I think Billy Corgan would be well jealous if I said that to him. 

However, I did end up getting a bit carried away at our Sunday Beach BBQ and got so cained that I sort of forgot that I had to go home. Then I had to gather myself up to get the train. No mean feat when you're more interested in how great your feet look and singing about Horsefaces. Yeah. Horsefaces. So in all I didn't end end up getting in til about 11. On the upside, I sat in first class on the way home and the nice ticket man didn't throw me out. In fact, he didn't even say anything when I showed him my blatant standard class ticket. I think it's because;

a: I looked like I'd spent 3 days living in a desert; and

b: I smiled a lot

However, my smiles didn't last long when I got off the train. This total wanking prickface decided to actually push me out of his way on the platform. I'd say I went skitz but that would be exaggerating slightly. I most definitely was not impressed. So much so that I said, "Excuse me? You're a fucking cock." I'm not quite sure what came over me. I'm certainly not proud of myself and I wouldn't do it normally but I think I was probably cranky because I'd not slept for most of the weekend and all the booze and things from Brighton were beginning to wear off. He did deserve it though. Prick. Obviously Mum was appalled when I told her. Mainly by his behaviour. 

She was more appalled earlier in the week though. We went shopping and there was some wine in the trolley. Got to the check out and the girl is like, "Excuse me? Have you got any ID?", to me. Seeing as I'm a total skank I don't bring my handbag to go food shopping with my mum. I politely point out that the *cough* ahem year old woman beside me is buying it so it doesn't actually matter. 

"Um, no. You're with her so I need to ID you"

At this point I say fair enough and I don't have any ID but it's cool and all that and we'll just leave it. My mother, however, is a bit perplexed by the whole thing. She doesn't actually have it in her to be nasty to anyone and I'd say she was a bit like a dog with a bone over the whole issue but I won't because then I'd inadvertently be calling her a dog which she most certainly is not but I think you get the idea. 

She basically stood there for about 10 minutes like this, :-O, then this, :-|, then with this - ? - expression on her face before she finally said,

"But...but....she's 25. She's a lawyer. She's 25. I'm buying it. Not her. And she's 25. And....she's a lawyer."

A stunning argument I think you'll agree but they weren't having any of it. To try and placate her I said, "Don't worry. I got ID-ed for fags yesterday on my way back from work in a suit." Hoom. Not a good move. She fucking HATES me smoking. Oopsy Daisy.

Isn't it nice when you actually like a photo you take enough to have it as your desktop? That's never happened before.