Thursday, 11 March 2010

Dear Diary - When I was 21...

Thursday, 11 March 2010
When I was 21, I was such a moody cow.  All I did was stomp around and complain about being single.  With the benefit of 10+ years of hindsight, with entries like this I ask you:  is it any bloody wonder?  :-)


Friday 4th April 1997.

I picked Panic up from the vet today – he got neutered and declawed. He’s a little groggy and stumbly-aroundy... it’s really funny! He smells a bit funny, too, but other than that he’s fine.

Went to the Trash last night, went looking for cute boys. I saw two (count ‘em, 2!!!) “potential life partners.” Hahaha. One was absolutely beautiful: short, black hair, tattoos, sexy boots, black pants. Sat in the corner watching everyone dance all night, all broody and adorable-smouldery. And then the other was a big, tall, sweaty-from-dancing huggable-lookin’ sort of fella. Yum. But he seemed a bit up his own ass. Whatever – it was a lot of fun; they played some really good tunes last night and I danced like a crazysonofabitch.

I did nothing all day today, except make a mix tape. Actually, I made two – I’m on the second one right now. I’m starting to make a bunch of them for my trip to England so that I won’t have to take five million tapes with me. Just a handful. TEN, tops.

Oh my god, guess what just happened? Someone just called from a flower shop and asked if I’d be home to accept a delivery. Obviously, hungover slob that I am, I had nowhere to be or no-one important to be with... so 15 minutes later, some guy comes to the door with this absolutely gorgeous flower arrangement – champagne roses, carnations... it smells and looks FABULOUS. I nearly piss my pants with excitement as I practically destroy the thing looking for the card to see who they are from. The first time I’d ever, in my entire life, received flowers for no reason from someone, and who are they from? I’m not even going to write his name, you know who I mean. I mean, he’s really sweet and kind but, just... he never says anything interesting.  Like, ever.  And besides, I could never love a Bon Jovi fan.  And now (fuck's sake!) I have to call him all gushing to say thank you. My first big elaborate bouquet isn’t supposed to be from HIM. (whiiiine)

And now? The punky-happy-dancey-holiday mix tape I was making has taken a depressing turn -- because of the Flowers From the Wrong Hottie episode, the last three songs are:

Bloody men!

3 people had something to say about this...:

Crystal Jigsaw said...

They're a bit like buses aren't they. None for what seems like forever, then two turn up at once.

CJ xx

Nicola P. said...

Ain't it the truth, girl!

Tanya said...

I love you to the moon and back Nick! This post is SO funny and yet I remember thinking/feeling these things...the only diff for me...the flowers were ALWAYS from my Dad...whatev..lol