thank the fucking lord it's friday, that's all I can say

I just got really excited for no reason at all. #1, who’s a journalist, called me up to ask if I wanted to go on an undercover mission with her. We were going to go to take photos of illegal arms sales on Sunday, all undercover like. But now we’re not going as the newspaper for some reason has decided it doesn’t want pictures of guns and is doing something else instead. And I was really excited!

Last night I one of those really lame girlie bonding moments that I seem to excel at. I was walking to Clapham Junction after ballet (in the fucking snow, once again- what the hell is going on) with a girl from my class. We were discussing the important issues in life… you know- cheese, wine, garden furniture…and she was saying that she didn’t have many friends because she didn’t like many people. I asked if she liked me, and she said yes. Then I asked her if she would like to be my friend, and she again said yes. So we stopped in the middle of the road and had a hug.

I am so lame.

When I got home, the house was empty (turns out it wasn’t, as #2 was hiding in her room so she didn’t have to talk to us) and I got a bit worried as it’s normally me who isn’t there, not the others. I pottered around, contemplating calling #1, but then thought that would seem quite pathetic. Eventually she turned up- she’d been in the pub with #3’s boyfriend, who lives with us most of the time. We drank lots of tea and complained about #2 and her selfishness. Earlier she’d been trying to change her lightbulb, and asked #1 how she would be able to tell if the current was on or off. #1 pointed out that the light bulb lighting up would probably be a good indication. She then started worrying that she would get electrocuted. #1 told her, “It’s a lightbulb. You’re not sticking your hand in the socket while dripping wet. You’ll be fine.” She actually seemed surprised. How do people get to the age of 24 and not know these things? She does come out with proper stupid comments (“is Milan in Spain?” “do vegetarians eat duck?”). I don’t like being mean. I’m not a mean person (although, paradoxically, I do thrive on conflict of whatever type). But she is winding us up a little.

I also had a bit of an odd conversation…

(phone rings)
Me: Hello?
G: Hey, it’s me… how are you?
Me: Good thanks, how are you? Why is there a time delay on your phone?
G: I don’t know. So what are you up to?
Me: Just on my way home from ballet.
G: Oh, are you not ill anymore?
Me: Well, I was ill, and then I got a bit better, and then I got ill again, and then I got a bit better, and then I got conjunctivitis.
G: Conjunctivitis? Do you look like a freak?
Me: Wow, I can see why you never became a nurse or anything.
G: Do you look like a zombie?
Me: I guess. My eyelids kept getting stuck together.
G: Cool.
Me: Not really, it hurt.
G: So anyway, I’m going to Cambridge next week, so I’ll be passing through London. Do you want to meet up on Wednesday or Thursday?
Me: I have ballet, sorry…
G: Both days?
Me: Yeah… I’m a bit keen.
G: Okay, well maybe we can meet up when I’m going back, at the weekend.
Me: Mmmm, I can only do Friday though.
G: Why?
Me: Because I’m busy. I’m going to Bournemouth.
G: Why?
Me: To see Wolf.
G: Who’s he?
Me: You know, used to live next door to me, one of my best friends, bald, misogynist, really lecherous, pretty fat and hairy?
G: Oh yes, him. You’re going to Bournemouth to see him, but you never come to Brighton to see me?
Me: You never invited me.
G: So what are you going to do there then?
Me: I don’t know. Drive around in his new car, drink a lot, hang out with some of the SAS, watch lots of porn, walk the dog…
G: Are you serious?
Me: Yes.
G: Okay, well, shall I call you when I’m back and we’ll sort out something?
Me: Yeah, that’d be good. It’d be good to see you. Hang on! What do you mean, ‘when you are back’? Where are you?
G: I’m in Barbados.
Me: Why are you calling me from Barbados?
G: For a chat.
Me: Are you okay?
G: What do you mean?
Me: Nothing. How is Barbados?
G: Great. Hot. Lots of beautiful half-naked women.
Me: Sounds alright to me. It’s snowing here.
G: That makes me feel good. Okay, well, I better go, but I’ll call you when I’m back.
Me: Alright, speak to you then.
G: Have a good weekend.
Me: You too. Take care.

Does anyone else think this is a really weird conversation? Since when do ex boyfriends call you up from Barbados?

Anyway, I am going to go and eat my lunch and generally be overexcited about the prospect of getting absolutely hammered tonight and then getting up early to watch the qualifying, before going out for lunch with lovely N (who incidentally got told to leave the moment he walked into work this morning because he smelt of booze and fags, and told to go and buy a shirt and some deoderant before coming back to work- thank god the public sector isn’t like that… here it’s perfectly acceptable to be ‘principal lawyer’ and throw up in your bin).

Oh, and the water drinking is going well. I had 2 litres yesterday and I’m up to 1.5 litres today already.