20 April 2001
I just called D. He was in a noisy restaurant. He said he'd call back in a couple of minutes, because they were just about to leave.
I however, am at home. On a Friday night. My eyes are red from crying at tonight's Buffy episode and my parents just called from the local chippie and asked if I wanted anything brought home. My automatic reply was "a sausage supper please".
D has just called back. While walking from the noisy restaurant, with his noisy happy jolly (and probably slightly pissed) housemates, to what I assume will be a noisy pub, filled with similarly noisy happy jolly and pissed people.
I however, am on my way to nowhere, in silence, with no alcohol (okay, that's not stricltly true. I do have alcohol, I just think that sitting and drinking on my own is a road I don't want to go down quite this early in life), and no happy jolly pissed friends.
This is just one of the many, many reasons why me being in Scotland and him being in London sucks. Sucks hard. Sucks long. Sucks a golf ball through a garden hose.
Did I mention that it sucks?
hey i know how getting up in the moring feels ok it hurt by the way you out look on life is cute
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
Design and content copyright 2000-2007 pixeldiva, except where noted.
Copyright of comments remains with the individual author.
All rights reserved.
Left comments