onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cos I've had the time of my life. I can�t remember what I�ve done since I last updated. I think I�ve consumed many cups of tea, though even if I can�t remember them that�s just a given. I�ve met up with friends a few times as well, as I have so much time on my hands due to my five-day weekends. Work experience is getting better and better. I�ve stopped telling such terrible stories to fill in silences now and my story telling has reached the dizzy heights of the mediocre. I�m getting a bit more selective when it comes to my conversations now, though on the way to our location on Friday I did find myself talking about �7 prostitutes, how fat people always win things and how you know if you�ve had a good wee. I also went to visit Vicki, my ex-flatmate from uni in Southport for a few days last week. We had a brilliant time and I got the biggest, blackest bruise I�ve ever had, in her company. I can�t remember how I got it, but it may be due to the both of us continually underestimating our tolerance for alcohol and every night getting tipsy on approximately the one and a half glasses of wine we had with dinner. On more than one occasion we ended up dancing around the conservatory to The Backstreet Boys and slurring something damning like, �God, I LOVE McFly!� or other such regrettable exclamations. Vicki also taught me a dance. One night we spent so long getting ready to go out that it was half past ten when we looked at the clock, and the bars shut at 11. As we were all dressed up with nowhere to go we just took pictures of ourselves pretending to pose for Topshop and then spinning around with our mouths open. Then we got into our pyjamas and watched Dirty Dancing 2, which I thought I�d hate, and maybe it was the wine but I didn�t. We spent a lot of the film yelling at the TV, �just kiss for GOD�s SAKE!� and discussing the fact that if it�s rated PG, chances are the kissing will come at the very end and will be cut together with shots of either spectator�s faces or some pretty scenery, so that you see the bare minimum of the action. Whereas in a 15 or over, it will be at the beginning and the good stuff is yet to come. So we decided we�d rent something saucier next time. We did quite fancy the main boy though, which made up for it a bit, especially as he was such a raunchy dancer. And to Vicki's delight, the old codger Patrick Swayze made a cameo appearance (even though the film was set in Cuba so we had no diea what he was doing there), but it only resulted in making me feel a little nauseous. I do not want to see old people bump and grind at the best of times. Anyway, Vicki and I went into Liverpool for a few drinks on the first night, to set the pace for the rest of my visit. We went to a bar on the docks where I asked the barman, what drinks detectives drink when they�re investigating a murder, �because I�ll have one of those�. He was actually very helpful and told me he thought it was whisky, though he�d better go and check with the manager, who looked very suspiciously at me. I loved that he took me so seriously, especially as I didn�t have a whisky in the end due to their being a big hole in my bank account these days. When the barman came back over he asked why I wanted to know, so I told him that I was reading a book where they always have stiff drinks and I�m very easily swayed. Vicki pretended she wasn�t with me at this point, and I didn�t blame her. It was almost as bad as the time I went up to the bar and asked if they had any beers beginning with the letter �P�. In this one book I read last year, the main character always drank coffee, so that was when I went through my coffee phase. And in the one I just read, they drank a lot of J&B and Canadian Club and if I knew what those were I�m sure I�d want them too. I loved that book actually, it made me cry three times and one of those times I was on a train. My dad�s reading it now and the first time I saw him with it I felt like I�d been cheated on. I had to convince myself that the book I�m reading now is just as good, but I knew deep down that I was fooling myself and it will never live up to its predecessor (which it hasn�t). My heart still belongs to The Pursuit Of Happiness by Douglas Kennedy and I don�t care who knows it. All I can say is, my dad better treat it right. Now I�m back home it�s been very boring once again. I�ve not done much in the last few days because I�m so skint and because of the ongoing problem, being that I live in the middle of nowhere. Jay and Shaun are back from uni now though, so we took a jaunt to a few pubs for a swift coke on Monday night. It was definitely an unpredictable night and Jay ended up letting Kate and I drive his car around Tesco carpark for a good while, after we realised that Shaun wasn�t going to get served in any pub that night. I ended up being pretty appalling at driving, but only because I was wearing wedges and I couldn�t see the mirrors, not that anyone believed me. To my disgust, everyone thought Kate was amazing! That got right up my nose because she could hardly reach the pedals. Shaun even took it upon himself to heckle me and exclaim how unsafe he felt with me and how secure he felt with Kate driving, even though I didn�t see Jay letting him in the front seat of Betsy at any time during the night. However, at around midnight, after deciding that we didn�t want to go home yet and with Jay dismissing the idea of driving to Sheffield to drop in on Holly, a little prematurely, we ended up going to the Tibshelf service stations for a cup of tea and a packet of Monster Munch. I tried in vain to persuade everyone that we should head to Scotland to see what�s going on up there, but we ended up going home at about 2am. And now we get to the present. Today I didn�t do much of interest except for have a driving lesson. It was going well until I was driving towards home, John said his usual �now stop on the left please Emma�, and I bombed it down the street and mounted the curb outside my house. I tried to disguise my faux par by saying, �perfect!�, but John was having none of it and next week he says we have to practice stopping. Again. It's something I should�ve learned by now and it�s getting particularly boring. Every week we have to go over �stopping on the left�. That, and slowing down. And come to think of it, �listening� is a big one as well; these days when John asks me why I turned right when he said precisely not to, he has stopped allowing the answer, �because I�m a moron�. 1:37 a.m. - 2007-05-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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