dylan

my job
My job is great
It's the first job I've had where I like all the people I work with (except the ones who don't count). Part of the reason it's great is that for the last 2 days there was a buffet, so I spent most of my shift stealing chicken satay and prawn thingies and mini samosas.

I worked in the club Thursday which was some shitty indie night, it was empty and piss easy, probably only 20 customers all night so a nice start! I did alright, apart from giving these two girls gin and coke instead of vodka because I didn't look at the bottles properly...they didn't notice, so it was all okay.

There was a very wasted, very Belgian looking guy who stood on his own at the bar all night, he must have been in his mid 50's, in a suit jacket, with an Asterix-style moustache and what may have been a wig, dancing erratically all by himself. We amused ourselves by squirting him with a water pistol every now and then. It was funny to see him swat the side of his face with a look of surprise, and gaze about confusedly before resuming his crazy dancing.

Friday I worked in the bar from open til close, then went down to the club and worked there too. It was packed and hellishly busy all night, and the glass washer leaked so my shoes and feet were sodden within an hour and a half, and I worked the whole 2 shifts with soggy feet. Someone told me I was the best barmaid ever. He wasn't even drunk. I was fine while I was rushing about, but the second I got home I felt like I'd been hit by a train, and the next day was horrible.

the house
Saturday I felt like I was dead but had to go and view the house we all really wanted - and nooooo...the house itself was fine, but there's no phone line at all, so no phone, no internet...so back to square one. And the estate agent apparently are crap - the shower and washing machine don't work and haven't for months, but they won't fix them. Anyone got a house they don't want? Plus Kat's boyfriend joined us and I spent the 3 hours feeling like the ugliest most achey pile of crap ever and watching them be all snuggly and perfect

my tattoos
My tattoos are at the itchy stage, and are driving me up the wall. Here are pictures (complete with red marks from my 5 Spanish market shoes which don't fit right but have cute little white footprints across them).

I've developed a horrible head cold that's really hurting my eyes.

the cunts upstairs
The morons in the flat above me are as noisy as ever, and last night I was so tired from work and just wanted to sleep but they were doing something that kept making my ceiling go "BANG" and shouting and running around and slamming doors, so eventually at about 3.30am I got out of bed and went upstairs. I rang the doorbell and some girl answered, I politely complained about the noise, she nicely said that they'd stop, and I went back to bed.
The noise got louder. I lay there for about 10 minutes until I had been worked into a white-hot ball of rage and I stomped upstairs and rang the doorbell a lot. Nobody answered. I rang the doorbell again. They turned on some music and started shouting. I rang the doorbell repeatedly. They turned the music up louder. I informed the closed door in a loud and violent manner that they were a bunch of complete cunts. Then I stomped back downstairs and called security. Haha, fuckers.

i nearly bled to DEATH
I was in such a vile mood today. One piece of advice, never ever shave your legs when you want to kill everyone. I wanted to wear skirt to work as all my jeans have beer down them, so I stood in my bathroom and stuck my legs in the shower to try and shave them. I'd done one and a half when a hideously sharp pain informed me I'd just taken a massive chunk out of my leg. I dried off and went into my room. When I looked down my leg was bleeding quite a bit - I don't normally bleed very much so this was quite a novelty and I even took a photo.

Then I tried to find a t shirt, and got dressed, and then I felt all dizzy and looked back at my leg and realised that there was a whole lot more blood than there had been a minute ago. I felt a bit sick and weird and my thoughts were going a bit funny and I decided I needed a plaster. So I stumbled out of my room and went and knocked on my flatmates door, and she opened it and I said "hello, I'm bleeding to death, do you have a plaster?" and then sat down very heavily on the floor. She went a bit white (don't think she likes blood very much) and made a lot of noise and went to find a first aid kit, and the noise got one of my other flatmates out of her room to come and see what was going on, which was good because she was all nice and capable and got a bowl of water and some kitchen towels and stuff and they fixed me. It wasn't actually that bad I don't think, just a lot of blood. It was weird because those two hate each other yet they were being really nice and helpful and stuff. Bonding exercise over my leg. I did wear a skirt to work, with a nice big plaster on my shin. And obviously I didn't bleed to death, or even nearly, I just got hysterical.

I'm going to try and update more often because nobody wants to read big giant entries like this. Weird thing - I've been thinking about my ex boyfriend Chris all day for no reason (we broke up years ago and I haven't seen him in probably a year or something) and he just rang me while I was typing this out. At like half midnight. To say "hello, i know it's a bit late to phone - did I ever hit you?" Apparently one of my other exes has told people that he had to drag Chris off me at school because he was hitting me. This is bollocks. I'm sure I'd remember that.
And a final thing - I really really really really want to go see the Ladyboys of Bangkok now they're in Brighton. But none of my friends will go with me because they're scared it will make them gay.