onlyemma's Diaryland Diary

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Emma who?

Yes. Tis me.

It�s been 44 days. I bet you�re wondering where I�ve been.

The answer is: right here. I�ve got no excuse as to why I haven�t updated lately, I just haven�t. I feel a bit bad about it actually, especially as I�ve been living in my sister�s room for the past three weeks and have had the computer within a metre of me at all times, which you�d think would make me more inclined to update. But then you�d be wrong.

I seem to be working full throttle at work experience now � 5 days a week and though the early starts are taking their toll, it�s still going well. However, there is the matter of another work experience person working with me now, who is making me look a bit bad. He actually knows everything and he has �contacts� too; which is a disadvantage to me, as compared, I seem to know nothing and no one.

There has also been a bit of romance in my life in the last month, but I won�t elaborate on that. Don�t worry, you�re not missing much, and from me using the past tense there I think you can guess where it went.

Down the crrrrrapper.

Vicki came down to visit for the weekend, on Friday. I went to collect her from the train station and we went for a glass of wine at Pitcher and Piano so that we could catch up and pretend to be rich and sophisticated. However, proving a striking resemblance to the last time we were together, one glass of wine soon turned into a bottle each, and I got horrendously drunk.

Luckily, after the initial impact of the alcohol and lots of talk about lesbianism and more McFly, Vicki decided to have a something to eat. At the time I was quite disappointed about that as I didn�t want to be the only drunkard. However, in hindsight it was a very good call; it turned out that later I�d need Vicki sobered up in order to guide me everywhere by firmly holding my elbow.

It was a good night though; and as far embarrassment went, I managed to out-do myself. After detouring to The Social, where we had two cokes and got chatted up by a 39 year old bouncer called Brent, we decided to go to the Pit and Pendulum. I love it in there, but unfortunately I don�t remember much of the time I spent there on that particular night. I�m assured that I had a good time though.

Vicki continued being sensible and got another coke, but the sensibleness didn�t seem to rub off on me, as I asked the barman what he�d drink.

I don�t remember what it looked like, tasted like, if I enjoyed it or even if I paid for it, and it tipped me over the edge. I then shamelessly chatted up the barman until we left, touching upon all number of subjects; not only enquiring, �do you have a Myspace and a girlfriend?� but quizzing him on God and religion. And I also asked for his phone number. Straight out, like I�m desperate or something. And I don�t know why, as he must see girls like that all the time and I doubt I seemed particularly alluring, but he gave me it.

Unfortunately though, not long after this, Kate phoned me (as she seems to do whenever I am drinking alcohol/ on a date or out after 9pm), to tell me off about an assortment of things but namely missing the tram I promised we were getting on that night. So that cut the festivities short, as we had to run to the tram stop.

We got the tram just in time and the journey meant we had time to reflect on the night. Vicki tells me we had a conversation of a somewhat tiresome nature for the whole 20 minutes it took us to get to Hucknall -though this something I don't recall. Apparently it went something like this:

Me: So do I have Alex�s number?
Vicki: Yes
Me: Where?
Vicki: On a piece of paper in my bag.
Me: He gave you his number?
Vicki: No, he wrote it down for you and you gave it to me for safe keeping�
Me: Okay� So you have his number?
Vicki: Yes
Me: Why did he give you his number?
Vicki: He didn�t, he gave you it, you just gave it to me to save.
Me: Oh. So he gave it to you?
Vicki: No, he gave it to you
Me: So I have his number?
Vicki: No, I have his number!
Me Why did he give you his number?

To be honest, I should�ve stopped drinking around the time I started closing one eye in order to write a text message. Oh well.

So after a rather full Friday night, the rest of the weekend was quite mellow as a consiquence; consisting of a meal at Wagamamas, a very swampy walk, a jaunt down to the Co-op to buy marshmallows and squirty cream, watching a McFly DVD , drinking hot chocolate and wearing matching pyjamas. Oh, do we know how to live it up.

In other news, next Friday I�m off once again to New Wine. I�ll be camping in the beautiful blue tent I chose last summer, looking after babies and probably (on the down side) feeling like the worst Christian alive (though judging from this month�s behaviour, that is probably near the truth). I�m really excited about it though because I always absolutely love it, however, the lack of electricity and therefore hair straighteners, is playing on my mind. It does every year.

You see, my life is divided (quite shallowly) into to two periods: The Pre-straighteners period, and the Post-straighteners period. You will realize that all romantic activity and boyfriends occur Post straighteners; and if not, I have demonstrated it for you in this handy little chart:

(The lull there between 'straighteners' and 'GHDs' is to account for the time I broke up with Tim and went through my short-lived "I Don't Care" stage. If you remember, it's around the time I decided that doing word searches and trying to eat my bodyweight in ice cream and Doritos, was the way forward.)

Obviously, going back to the Pre-straighteners stage is particularly haunting.

So, in order to save any embarrassing frizzy surprises next week, I have taken it upon myself to dedicate time to finding out exactly what shocks my hair has in store. Over the next few days I am going to attempt various styles such as the �Just Walked Out From Under a Hand Dryer� look by blasting my hair from above with the hairdryer; I am looking into the idea of wearing various hats and then of course, there will be the Ultimate Headband Experiment.

Today I am initiating the �Camping Hair Trial Run�; as it is a Saturday and all, and apart from dodging a few household tasks, I have very little to do. I have decided to jump in at the deep end and I am at the moment fashioning �Worst Case Scenario� � this is as extreme as it gets, occurring if there�s not even a hand dryer to crouch under to tame the old fringe. I am, for the first time since t he Year 8 bouffant, letting my hair dry naturally. I am hoping that within the next five hours, I will then be able to attempt some kind of festival chic �do, akin to the bohemian look fashioned by Sienna Miller.

I do fear however, that I am more likely to end up with the Diana Ross, but my spirits are nonetheless high.

Especially for randomrabbit. Gingerbread men with chocolate trousers. Voila!

[HELLO ALEX]

11:40 p.m. - 2007-07-14

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