The time has come...

for me to blog about the bizarre events of a drunken last friday. Unfortunately, Jems has beaten me to it (that outrageous filthy skank) and has probably revealed all the best bits, so it is up to me to conjure up a poor imitation of the blog she has already written on the subject - which is, regrettably, hilarious.

Also, she seems to remember a great deal more than me.

At first, all I could really recall was cracking open the tequila and rum, fuzzy details of laughter and a toilet bowl, then waking up. However over the week, details are slowly returning to me. And much like a previously-comatose-recently-recovered detective trying to recall details from her own life after being run over by a large bus for the elderly, I shall attempt to put them into some sort of order.

8.30ish: We open the tequila. And some amaretto. And beers. And some extremely random fruit juice mixers. And rum. We commence drinking.

9ish?: There is a lot of laughing. A lot. Ewan goes to fetch some cards - he is more sober than the rest of us and thinks we should play a card game. The cards have naked ladies on them.

Later: Ewan and Jems exit the room. I hear a lot of shouting - something to to with 'Have you seen Ewans HUGE cock?!'. Jems insists she said clock, ('CLOCK with an L!') I was not so sure... until the morning when I saw it. He does indeed have a bloody huge clock. Kudos.

Even later?: Ewan brings in an orange snake. It is his pet. I am so drunk at this point that this does not even seem bizarre - it is in fact, regular. Mundane. And also, I forget to be scared. I touch the snake - it is warm and squishy! Are snakes meant to be like that? I ponder aloud at the health of Ewans snake.

Could have been any time: 28 days later is on. BJ annoyingly tries to explain the plot, but he is the drunkest and his explanation makes very little sense. He also talks at length about how 'nice' everything is - this night, us, him, our drunken togetherness, the film, nipples, Ewans curtains...

Sometime after midnight: The boys decide we should take a walk through the dark streets of WB to 'clear our heads'. We get outiside... the boys are not wearing tops. I am not wearing shoes. The night is very cold. We take a walk.

1-3AM: General fuzziness... more laughter. BJ lies spread-eagled across Ewans compost heap outside, groaning. I laugh at him. Then I retire to the bathroom and lie by the toilet groaning. At some point, me and Jems collapse in Ewans bed. A few hours later, we wake up.


The end (I think..)


Disclaimer: I'm actually quite a nice person really. I don't do this sort of thing a lot. But I do reserve my right to fulfil the stereotype of drunken british binge bitch-wino occasionally - after all, the rest of Europe need something to tut about while they make clocks and nod approvingly at their high standards of education and superior foodstuffs.

FurtherDisclaimer: I love the rest of Europe. Exept that Mario guy from the pool in that campsite in France - Mario, if your reading this, go away no one likes you. And those were not real speedos.


I am off to the lake district with Jems tomorrow for more hilariarse antics (in our heads anyway) so shall not be blogging for a while. However, you are never far from my mind. Whoever you are.
Au revoir.

'My feet have a brain-freeze!'

I think I just spilled mousteriser on my knee. It feels cold and mousteriser-ey, and the bottle is now on the floor. But I don't want to look.

In other news, yesterday was a bunch of larks which nicely broke the monotony of recent dark times. Me and Jems faithfully turned up to social studies for the second time in two weeks running!!! We are practically running the thing. Of course, we shouldnt have bothered... our glourious leader (otherwise known as the Portly One, Pieman, or Doc H) only wanted to show us a bunch of slides of the new school and ramble at length about each one. This is all very well, but the new school is barely half finished, so he was basically just showing us pictures of rooms in derelict building, decorated with the occasional cement mixer, and giving us five minute speeches on what wonderful media rooms/canteen/boys toilets they would some day become. It was hard to share his glowing vision of the sixth form common room when we were staring at grey concrete, metal beams and a grumpy dude in a flourescent jacket ('Thats our project manager! Bill!').

Anyways. When he'd finally finished, practically begged people to ask questions and waddled off, beaming, to a chorus of unenthusiastic applause, we were free to bugger off wherever we wanted. So bugger off we did, and me and Jems both crammed on my bike (which has seen better days. And better arses - Jems was on the saddle. LOL! Sorry Jems, i'm feeling playful) and wobbled off to the rec near my house. Where we stripped off our shoes and socks, rolled up our jeans and paddled in the privately owned river in the rain, like the rebels of nature we are. We also sang, and stabbed our feet on rocks, and screamed, and laughed, and nearly fell over A LOT. Good times.

But very, very cold.

The best part however, was when we rescued a tiny weeny frog from er.. his home. We called him Alex James, and he looked a bit like him as well. Maybe he loved cheese too. We will never know, because we set him free to join his friends - Damon the goldfish, Dave the watersnail, and Graham the otter (nb. aforementioned friends may not exist)

And tomorow we're off on another exiting adventure, although sadly, this time it doesnt involve frogs. Me, Jems and Lily are off to stay over with some friends in wooton bassett who I havent seen in aaages - very exited. We are bringing pjs and a bottle of tequila. That is all.

The sun is missing. This makes me sad.

Recently, i have been wishing a lot that I could either be on holiday or drunk. Preferably both, as I hope will be the case when I go to the lake district with Jems in a few weeks time, hopefully with a few bottles of vodka hidden between our wetsuits and knickers (not while we are wearing them, obviously. That would be vair uncomfortable. And awkward to explain).

The reason I have been wishing for one of these two things is that they are both nice ways to escape your situation and forget about shit. I would like to do this very much at the moment. My family are driving me insane in all their special, different ways, and I am sick of turning up to school where I waste away any lessons I actually have either chatting to friends about how much we wish we weren't in school, or staring into space, wishing I wasn't in school. When I'm at home I hole up in my room to escape hearing about how useless/selfish/irresponsible/pathetic I am (courtesy of my dad, my dad, my mum and my sister, in that order. Provoked mainly by me forgetting to empty the dishwasher) and as much as I have always defended the mess in my room, im beginning to feel like the walls are closing in on me. I have not done any homework in over 5 weeks. I can tell teachers no longer believe my excuses, and I don't care. I should. But I don't. I smile at the polite disbelief and downright scorn (depends on the teacher) in their eyes, and make my excuses stupider and stupider for my own amusement. Meh. I'll try harder in September, but now, despite what the shitty English weather is trying to tell us, it is summer... we do not belong in school like caged animals (caged animals with uniforms and copies of Othello.)

We need sunloungers and swimming pools. We need bottles of something flourescent and alcoholic, with a little umbrella in it. We need large inflatable animals, rocket ice lollies from one stop, bottles of 'tinted mousturiser' (my arse) and all those other stupid, strange-looking and vaugely ridiculous things you only buy in the summer.

Anyway. I think you'll all agree, we need a holiday!

You can't BOO Damon!

Last night, I was severely trampled on by several heavy, sweaty, stoned men. My hair was given a beer shampoo. My shoes (not to mention my feet) were labelled write-offs after being trampled on for four hours straight. A bottle of piss, kindly thrown by some stranger I would like to kill, exploded up the side of my leg. I was pulled, pushed, shoved, crushed, headbutted and grabbed in every direction.

No, I was not assulted. I was in the unofficial mosh-pit of Blurs comeback concert in hyde park! Despite being covered in about 10 peoples sweat, beer, urine, and hell, probably fan-shit by the end of the night, words cannot describe how awesome it was - but seeing as words are pretty important when writing a blog, I shall give it a go.

We got to hyde park at about 2 (we being me, Jems, James and ermm... we'll call her Rosie) and after I had an experience I would rather forget in a portaloo, we stampeded to the front of the park and ended up only about 5 rows back from the stage. The actual stage. Where blur would be playing. Guitars. And drums. Damon Albarns feet. Would be on that stage.
You get the idea.

We had a bit of a wait ahead of us though. The entertainment started at about fourish and we saw this weird chinese band, who sang in what I can only assume was chinese and chucked a rubber ball about on stage. They were.. interesting, in an I-don't-know-what-the-fuck-these-nutters-are-singing-about-but-ok-lets-dance way. Then Florence and the Machines came on and they were freakin' awesome! They were followed by this African samba group, and Vampire Weekend wrapped it up for us. They did 'A Punk' which I was very glad about.

But by this time the crowd was getting pretty restless to see blur. Most us had already been there for about six hours.. bottles started being chucked about all over the place, sporadic chanting and 'woohoo!'s rose up into the air, the sun kept on getting hotter and a little Aisan guy in front of me tutted pissily as the enourmous drunk bald guy in front of him fell on top of his wife. Everytime we thought Blur were about to come out there would be an unbearable pause while everyone screamed and cheered... before another cheesy sixties number started again over the speakers, and we groaned collectively. Finally the music stopped comletely. Smoke started blasting out across the stage, and Blur appeared walking through it in a bizarrely Charlies Angels moment and launched straight into their first song.

The whole place went mental.

I can only describe it as trying to keep afloat in a massive tidal wave of hot, sweaty human bodies (while at the same time trying to cling to my bag, that I'd stupidly bought with me): while people crashed into me from all directions, I tried to keep my head at a resonable angle in order to be able to see Damon, who was wielding the mic like a god, and scream along with the lyrics. This meant doing my fair share of leaping, shoving and kicking, which was actually extremely enjoyable. However, despite my best efforts, me and Rosie were separated from Jems and James in a matter of minutes when we barrelled backwards by a bunch of guys who I think were attempting to make a human pyramid.. with no one as the base.

By the time Blur had started 'Coffee and TV' I was jammed in between two guys, both irritatingly tall, Rosie, and a hysterical blonde girl who kept clutching my elbow. And I mean literally jammed. If you wanted to put your arms up, that was it, because you wouldn't be able to get them down for a while. Also, this very tight situation meant that the guy rammed in behind me seemed to think he could grope my ass without me noticing (at least I think thats what he was trying to do... very hard to tell with so many limbs in such close proximity) and I was far to squashed to turn round and tell him to fuck off. But it was around this time that the afore-mentioned bottle of piss flew out of nowhere and splattered up my leg, at which point I thought fuck it, that must be the worst that could happen, may as well just get right into it now.

And so I did :-D despite the bruises and achingness this morning, exellent, exellent night. Damon Albarn is a god. Alex James likes cheese. What more could you possibly want from a band? It would be hard to pick out a best song from the set - for some songs I was so busy trying to stay afloat in the crowd that I didnt completely realise what they were - but 'Tender' was bloody good. It was kind of a relief to have the crowd relatively still and swaying for once.

And of course, Song 2 was amazing.