volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- bleughhhh Ewff. Grotty and grumpy tonight. I don't know why exactly. I'm sure I was in a reasonable mood when I woke up this morning, and I'm sure that I was still pleasant enough when Fatboy and I went into town. I do know that my mood started to deteriorate when we were in the supermarket, because I admonished that lovely little boy rather more severely than was necessary for not unpacking the damn trolley fast enough (HOW evil am I?), and I made him cry. I didn't feel very good about that, so we had to stop and have a hug whilst I apologised, and this ratty old dear in the queue behind us got even rattier and kept saying, in a stage whisper, to no-one in particular I'm going to miss my bus, I am, I'm going to miss my bus... I got quite cross at that point, because every time she was in my field of vision, she was trying to catch my eye, so I kept swivelling her out of view. It wasn't even my fault that the queue was moving slowly, despite the soap-opera quality that Fatboy and I had brought to it. It was moving at snail's pace because the woman who was packing my 65-quid's worth of shopping for home delivery (Heh- you didn't realise we were quite so posh, did you?) was gassing away to me with gay abandon about how all the young men in the shop ignored her when she told them off. I think this story was meant to make fatboy feel better, although I haven't quite worked out how exactly... Nevertheless, I was OK when we got home. I got a bit crabby this afternoon because I spent ages fannying around with a blogger template that insisted on looking shittier and shittier every time I hit the "change this!" button. Actually, much as I hate using my diary as a virtual begging bowl [SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE: WISHLIST THATAWAY <----] if anyone has any experience with blogger templates, let me know, eh? I can't promise actual sexual favours for anyone who comes up with the goods, but, y'know, it's the thought that counts, isn't it? Blogspot? Yup- new project on the go (subtitled 1001 things to do when you should be moving house), which you'll be informed of in due course. Promise. So yes, the mood was perhaps in a slow decline throughout the day, really. I have to go back to work tomorrow, for a stint of 3 consecutive 12-hour shifts. the prospect doesn't fill me with joy, even though I'll only have six more to do by the end of the weekend. I think I'm a bit grumpy because I have No Social Life Whatsoever right now. I haven't been out for weeks. The last time I went out was that World Music day thing. I had an excellent time that day, but I'm a bit peeved that the chap i went with hasn't called me. It was left like this: we had an unopened bottle of wine left that we'd bought between us. He was carrying it in his rucksack, so he took it home, saying (as we parted on the street corner by my house) that he'd bring it round in the week to drink with me. I agreed that this would be a splendid idea. He hasn't been round. He hasn't rung or nuthin'. I don't think I was seriously anticipating a hot romance to erupt out of the situation, but I did think we might at least share some pleasant moments together. every time I see him, we both always laugh about how anti-social we've both become, and how we must make the effort to go out. I think he's crap. He's a lovely bloke, but I suspect (a bit like me, strangely) that he's so independent and self-sufficient that the prospect of getting involved with someone is a bit of a threat (except, as well know, I'm kind of OVER that sort of delusional thinking now). I don't know. As I said, he's a lovely bloke, but then again I think to myself, Emma, he's 38, and in the 5 years you've known him, he's never ever been known to have a girlfriend. True, I did snog him years ago, after a "date" we went on, but I think that came about via the alcohol, rather than the unbridles lust on offer. Well, on his part- I presume. I was feeling pretty lusty, but then I usually do. Especially if I'm in a dating situation, because I'm normally so grateful and elated that anyone's deigned to be seen in public with me that my hormones and my urges and instincts all go a bit doolally anyway. Then again... then again... I was worrying that maybe I was meant to call HIM. Shit- the gravity of this thought has only really just struck me. After all, he rang me to arrange going to the world music thingy. Am I meant to call him this time? What's the etiquette expected in this situation? Can someone with a bit of dating experience let me know, please. Bollocks, I don't know why I'm stressing on this so much- I'm moving in a month and I'm sure the Welsh boys at the seaside will be flocking around me like bees to the honeypot. [Yeah right] I think I just wanted something nice and unexpected to happen to me. I know I'm being greedy, because I'm leaving my shitty job soon, and I'm moving to the sea to be studious trailer trash, but those are nice things that are happening to me that I've made happen. I want a nice surprise now. A nice man-shaped surprise. No funny business, just a bit of flirting and the opportunity to get out of the house without it involving Family Films or chips & curry sauce. Right. Going now. My flowers need watering. I'll come back in a better mood, I promise. 7:16 a.m. - 01.08.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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