October 10th, 2005

howard boosh, think of the kittens


Man, why did I smoke so much on Saturday night? I'm still feeling the effects now. It serves me right, I know, especially as at one stage a friend asked me for a cigarette and I only had one left and I kept it for myself. So really, I deserve to have lungs that feel like they're made out of sandpaper and wool. And when I say I smoked so much, I should add that that means about ten cigarettes, not, like, thirty, but still. Far too much. I've got to stop this social smoking - just because I can go all week without a cigarette doesn't mean it's okay to smoke at the weekends.

It could have been worse, though - other people were smoking little cigars. If I'd done that, I'd still be puking now.

Anyway, I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself, not when poor Patsington had to get up at half six yesterday morning (after we got home at half two) and go to work. The poor cherub angel. He's gone off to Cork today because his film is being shown in the film festival but I can't go because I have to go in to THE OFFICE today and I can't turn the I***** T**** down when they offer me a desk for the day. So I can't cheer Patsington on in person, and I shall miss him. He did write me another verse of the Pandababy song to cheer me in his absence, though....

Although you are endangered
You're in a loving manger
So don't be a stranger

My throat feels soothed already!
fat pony like thunder

high heeled sneakers

I'm never wearing high heels again.

My wedding vintage sparkly ballroom dancing shoes looked good and were quite bearable for most of the day, but eventually my feet started to hurt so I switched to my sequined Chinese slippers which I'd brought for just such an eventuality. But! The stupid buckles of the slippers aren't very good, and while they're fine for toddling around the house at home, they weren't much good for dancing because they kept sort of falling off. So I switched back to the heels. Until eventually I had to take them off and dance barefoot (as most of my chums were doing). None of us wear non-wedge heels on a regular basis, so I was not the only one who found she couldn't walk the next day. Seriously, my calves are still hurting when I go up or down the stairs. How do you regular heel wearers do it?

It also struck me today that were quite a few people at the wedding whom I only ever encounter when out reveling. There used to be a time, and that time was called "college", when I saw my extended social circle on a near daily basis. Now as the years go by and the social circle is pared down, I see my good friends on a regular basis and just bump into everyone else while out acting the jinnet. Which means there are a lot of people who only ever meet me when I'm a babbling loon (ie, when I've drunk more than one glass of wine). I shudder to imagine what they think of me. Seriously, if every time I met someone she was either ranting on at the top of her voice about god knows what and not letting anyone else get a word in edgeways or dancing insanely to 'Africa' by Toto (okay, the Toto thing was just on Saturday night, and my friend the Mozzer was worse because she was doing actions), I'd probably think "good heavens, she used to be quite normal (well, normal-ish) and now she's a deranged old harridan." And little do they know that I'm only a deranged harridan once every two weeks or so, and it only takes about a glass and a half of wine to set me off.

Anyway, I'm going out AGAIN tonight to bid farewell to the Bride and Groom. Where, happily, I will be surrounded by people who know me all too well.