iris1

As you may have noticed, this is a picture of my leg.

It is also a picture of the onset of the lovely big bruise that is developing on my leg. I wish I had taken this photo an hour later, because now it looks even more impressive. In fact, it might be the most impressively purple thing I've ever seen.

So, on to what I wanted to tell you:

GO PAINTBALLING.

If what you most want out of life is

a.) to run through some woods screaming 'yippee kay-yay mother fuckers!' at the top of your voice.
b.) to be shot up like a bitch
c.) to spend the day watching a bunch of the chaviest chavs you have ever met unwittingly demonstrating that they i.) may have big mouths but this doesn't equal a big brain ii.) despite many claims to the contrary, have never had sex. (Myself, Sarah, Terry and Terry's friends just watched them in horror, especially towards the end, when they were intent on getting everyone killed)

SERIOUSLY, it's amazing. And it makes you feel like a MAN. Roawr. Even when you are quite patently not one (the high levels of testosterone flinging themselves about the place today meant that Sarah and I ended up a.) swaggering and b.) casually dropping the word 'knob' into general, everyday conversation more repeatedly and frequently as the day went on - we were the only girls in a group of 42. Oh yes.)

And f**k me, am I good with a gun. I shot someone in the CHEST, and they were behind a tree. I am a genius.

Here is the list of places I got shot:

- the leg. As you can see. Several times, actually.
- the arm
- the shoulder
- the head. Again, several times.
- right bang slap on my pubic bone. Niice.
- the back of the thigh. Oh yes ladies, the BACK of the thigh. And we're talking: any higher and it would have been a forrest gump situation. Whats impressive about this wound is that I got hit from the front. Work that one out.
- Most impressive of all - my chin. Right in the space between the top of my boiler suit (sexxxxy) and the bottom of my mask. That was either the most amazing shot ever or a fluke. I suspect it was the latter.

I did not, repeat, DID NOT, not in the entire 8 hours we were playing, get shot in the chest or back. Meaning: i did not get killed.

Yeah, I was surprised too.

And I really threw myself into it. I didn't think I was going to. I was terrified when we got there at 8am this morning (after Macdonalds, because you gotta). Especially after signing a form stating that if I should be blinded during the course of the day, it wasn't the fault of the paintball company (Duncan! I canne see!).

But it was great. I think I had something to prove, being one of the two only girls, and everything. All day, it was like 'girls, you look clean. Get into the game!' and when it happened for the third time I got so annoyed that I turned round and yelled at the marshall 'scuse me, I got shot in the thigh just now! And by the way, I'm a lot more covered in paint than most of these 40 men here!' And it was true.

I got to hide in a fort and lie on the floor in a trench. I sort of want to go to war now, actually.

Although, as Terry pointed out, in the army, you can't just put your hand up and walk off when you get shot.

The only downside was that towards the end of the day, all the stupid chavs we were playing with got more and more aggressive and trigger happy. I may have had a screaming fit in the middle of the forest at a bunch of them for shooting me seventeen times 30 seconds AFTER the final whistle blew. From behind a tree AND as I was walking away with my gun down. Cowards. I yelled at them. Then Terry yelled at them. And then their ultra intelligent respeonse was 'yeah, you want another one?'

I shot that guy in the face.

Obviously he was wearing his mask.

After that, the entire other team had it in for me a bit. And most of our own team were either acting like c**ts or pissed off with the ones acting like c**ts. So, when it came to the final game, where we all stood facing each other in a field and opened fire, most of our team was either 'not playing due to individual differences' (most of my group of friends) or acting like c**nts and hiding behind a.) me or b.) bushes, and the other team, well, all had it in for me.

And this is where I learned that I am officially HARD. Because I a.) did not hide behind a bush and b.) when I got pelted to death, (note: at a range of 10 metres, in open air, standing still, NONE of them managed to hit me in the chest) and by the way, those pellets HURT, I did not flinch.

I'm not proud of much I do in life, but I'm proud of that

Oh also, boys complain so much more than girls. Fact. All day it was 'my leg hurts' and 'uuuhhhhh, my gun's wobbly' or 'uuhhhhhhh, they shot me in the face and it stings'. Sarah and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes a lot.

Oh, also, my hair has orange highlights now.

You can't really see in these photos unfortunately, because my hair is the colour of straw anyway, but here's some post war photos:





Orangey hair, no make up, big dark circles. I would say they are because I was up at 5am, but really they are always there.

I rarely sleep.

Anyway, enough about my day of madness.

Oh except to say that I got offered a gig for tonight in Croydon today, but I was still warring when the message got left on my phone and by the time I called them back (which to be fair was only 15 minutes later) they'd already passed it on. Damn them. I really want more gigs. Like, really, really.

I wrote more jokes. I write a lot. I have a lot of inspiration. I don't know if they are funny but they are better than No Jokes.

They are about Ikea (there's a lot of jokes about Ikea but mine is original, I assure you), people thinking my tattoos aren't real (which contains the best and most disgusting line I've come up with all week) and one I have affectionately titled 'Wearing My Rolex'.

In other news:

- Yesterday I went to East Acton by mistake
- I have booked a tattoo appointment for next month with Valerie Vargus of Frith St Tattoo, I'm very excited, it's going to be quite big. It's also my first cover up, something I vowed I'd never do, but I guess circumstances change.
- I think I might have started to cultivate a wish to BE Dizzee Rascal.
- On Friday my Dad came round, got drunk and then proceeded to play Smarty Pants on my Wii for 3 hours. When he became convinced that the News of the World was the first ever British newspaper, it was time to stop.
- I have a library card now. I am rock and roll.

What have you done this weekend? And was it as painful as what I did?