Thursday November 2nd
Well! Would you credit it! The diary is
Of course, I missed the exact date by 2 days, but oh well, I don't think anyone will notice. I can't quite believe I've made it last for so long. Here are 5 interesting trivial facts about me by way of a birthday card for my readers -
1. I cut my own fringe. With nail scissors.
2. I have a once inch scar on my scalp which hair doesn't grow out of.
3. I cannot remember a time when I have been drunk and *not* embarrassed myself in some way.
4. I still suck my thumb when I'm really tired or really upset (that's so embarrassing, I don't know why I admitted it, maybe I am drunk and I don't know it)
5. I once wrote a description of my perfect man and it was 4 pages long. I considered putting it in this diary but decided it would be too intimidating.
Now, to explain the really really drunk part - I went to a big free party thrown by Camel cigarettes, where Frankie's-daughter-Heidi works, and they had a free bar, and I lost count after 5 vodka red bulls and 6 gin and tonics. Well, it was free....I didn't realise I was drunk until we left. There was this sort of scary moment where I was sitting on a barstool, Frankie was off in the bathroom, and I was sort of swaying - well, trying to dance while sitting on a barstool, to be precise - and I had my eyes closed because the place reminded me of going clubbing in London and I was trying to will my friends from London to be there (and I didn't realise I was drunk? Well, maybe a little), so I had this big smile on my face because I was thinking of my friends. Then I opened my eyes and there were these three guys lined up in front of me, grinning right at me, and I was like, WOAH and might well have fallen backwards off my stool had the bar not been there to prop me up. They all managed to get a good look at my tits by ostensibly reading the slogan on my t-shirt ("too busy to fcuk" - the comments I get...) then they took my hands and led me onto the dancefloor (it was all quite surreal) and then after a few minutes they started yelling, "WE LOVE YOU! YOU'RE GREAT!" at me, and one of them did backflips for my viewing pleasure, which was the sort of scary moment. After careful consideration I have decided that
a) They had me confused with somebody famous, or
b) They thought I was a drag queen (since one of them was decidely fruity, strangely enough the one who was hitting on me the most (but not the one who put his hand on my leg))
Well, I was just having so much fun I didn't want to leave. There were belly dancers and fire eaters and women dressed as Cleopatra handing out free cigarettes and this very skinny man on really long stilts and some woman dancing in front of a screen with a red light behind her, it was all very haremesque. However, all good things must come to an end, including the free bar, so we left around 1.30am. In spite of planning to attempt to act sober in front of Father Hand, I think I blew that by saying, "Wow...I am so, so, so drunk". Then, being stupider than your average idiot, I decided to go online and see what havoc I could wreak. Reading over my histories today in ICQ has been a real cringe-creating exercise. There's one I just dare not even look at. Happily at some point I almost passed out for about 10 minutes, and then I had to go and stand on the balcony for another 15 for some fresh air, so even though I was there until 5am, it wasn't *really* three and a half hours. *Hang head* in the words of Homer Simpson, "Lord help me - I'm just not that bright".
Today I went to see the Girl Scout woman, and she was really nice, and gave me applications for Program Director and told me all about their planned programs. This lady has her wits about her - one of them involves getting the girls to build a cabin on the camp - a real one. That's what you call cheap labour. She liked me so much she even offered me a year-round part-time job, but sadly it appears I won't be able to get a visa for that. It appears I might even struggle to get a visa for the camp job, but I'm sure I'll find a way around it.
Grandad and Granny Hand arrived yesterday whilst I was out on the Mother's Ruin and they seem to be settling in OK. Grandad Hand apologised for telling me I should have a job, which was nice of him; Granny Hand asked me three times in the space of an hour this morning what we should cook for dinner. I hid behind a Graham Greene from the library and pleaded ignorance, then got Father Hand to take me to Burger King on the way home (I'm so spoiled - it's terrible). I dunno...you cook food for Tom Cruise and suddenly you're branded a chef for life. Oh, it's a tough life, it really is.
Wednesday November 15th
Two weeks since I last wrote! Shame on me. I haven't really been doing much, you see, so I thought I wouldn't waste the words. Grandad and Granny Hand have been here for two weeks now, I think they are enjoying themselves. I, unfortunately, am filled with murderous rage every morning when I wake up to the music of Railroad Tycoon...and I mean, EVERY, SINGLE, DAY. It's not *quite* so bad on the days Father Hand wakes me up and tells me to go and sleep in his bed, since then when the music cuts into my peaceful slumber I can lie still and quietly growl for a while before getting up. But recently, Father Hand has taken to letting me stay on the couch instead of waking me up when he goes to work, which actually is no favour to me. Oh well.
I finally went over to the gym this afternoon; I took Granny Hand with me and put her on the treadmill which she seemed to quite enjoy. I spent about half an hour there - I feel there is no point in pushing myself, I do not want to suddenly become emaciated (snigger). Anyway, I found myself quite enjoying it, although I became hallucinatory, for example on the stair climbing machine where I managed to convince myself that if I climbed for 5 minutes, I'd reach the ice cream shop at the top. Damn, I hate that machine, I climbed for almost twice as long and I didn't get anywhere! My legs hurt though, so it must have done me some good.
The weeks have been kind of empty. Last Friday Frankie and I went to an 80s night at the House of Blues, we had an amazing time although when they charged me 11 dollars for a vodka/red bull and a coke, I did sort of feel like I'd been mugged. Danced around for several hours whilst sober, which was quite a liberating experience. Frankie turned 42 last week so we were ostensibly celebrating her birthday. The weekend before that, we drove out into the Mojave Desert, just to have a look around, and Father Hand let me drive, since it has become apparent that I am insured to drive his car even though I do not have a licence. This is all good; I shall be stealing his car keys within a couple of months, no doubt. We were getting along wonderfully until I asked him what a sign said, and he replied with a shocked, "You mean you can't read that?!" (it only said "DIP", I mean, it's not like it was that important!) and all were alerted to the fact I was, in fact, driving without my glasses. Shortly after that I was instructed to pull over for lunch, and relegated to the back seat. But oh well, we had a nice day anyway - we drove through a forest of Joshua trees.
Went shopping on Sunday, I was supposed to be buying Christmas presents but I came home with two new shirts and a pair of bright red fuzzy trousers that make me feel like Sanata Claus. They're happily very warm, since it's turned quite cold here recently - it's still sunny, but it doesn't get much above 60 or 65 degrees during the day. One of my shirts has "Spoiled" written across it in glitter, I thought that was very appropriate, considering I bought it with Father Hand's money. It's so much fun shopping when you're not spending your own hard earned wages, I never realised before. I must be careful not to get used to it or I'll become one of those typical women who sleeps all morning and then shops with her husband's credit cards all afternoon.
All has gone quiet on the boy front, which is all good, since I realised (a) I was getting very bored with it and (b) probably the only reason I thought I wanted a boyfriend was because I have nothing to do with my time except think, and that's not a good enough reason. Instead, I've stuck pictures of my friends all over my desk and I've put more effort into book-writing of late (which is another reason why I haven't had so many words to spare here in the past couple of weeks). Bernie also wrote me a letter telling me to snap out of it (only he was really nice about it) and that helped; thank god not *all* my friends are trying to tell me that it is better to be in a couple than on your own.
People want to visit, too, so having no friends won't be such a problem. Panda and Allen want to come for New Year; Justine and her friend Sylvia want to come in February; and Mother Hand in March. Additionally, Uncle Dave is flying out on Christmas Day (of all days!) which will make it even more of a family Christmas. Interestingly, this will be my first family Christmas since (ponder) 1995, I think.
I've run out of things to say! I'll try and do something interesting before I write again, I promise.
Sunday November 26th
Hallelujah! Eureka! And all sorts of other happy noises, for I have found Mecca, right here in Vegas. Last night I went to a pub called the Crown and Anchor, where they sell such delights as Dry Blackthorne *on tap* and all kinds of English food. Of course their pints are 4 fluid ounces short, but that's an excuse to order more, in my opinion. And order more I did. I feel so bad for Frankie, she must have been really bored, but I had the best time. We got there around 10pm and when I left, the sun was just coming up: perfect, and English pub exempt from English licensing laws! Frankie ended up leaving me there having a big argument with someone from Wales with a tongue stud about Liverpool being a crap football team (I was anti, he was pro); then I started talking to someone from Birmingham who's been here for 13 years, and his friends, because the Welsh bloke went and passed out in the toilet (so I was told, I didn't go and find out); then I had a very long discussion about abortions with a couple from New York; and then when they left I got into a very, VERY long discussion with a student majoring in political science about the elections here. He claimed Bush won the popular vote; I claimed it was Gore (I was right, and I do hope I catch up with him there again because we bet $200 on it); and we argued for a very long time after leaving the pub, so long in fact that it was 9am before I got home, and Grandad Hand was already up playing on the computer. I looked like I'd been shagged through a hedge backwards and I must have smelled like I'd fallen into a barrel of cider and been allowed to marinade in it and then smoked an entire pack of cigarettes (which is pretty close to the reality) but he was polite enough not to say anything. Father Hand came and woke me up around midday to tell me he was awake and I could have his bed; I remember mumbling something like, "But um, you're in your bed *asthmatic cough*" but when I woke up at 2pm I was in the bed so he must have convinced me it was OK. Ooops, I did it again, I drank rather much...la la la...
But I was a happy bunny, anyway. I can see myself spending more time there in future.
Thursday was Thanksgiving here, and Frankie kidnapped me to put me to work over a hot stove on Wednesday night. Between the two of us, we cooked this amazing turkey dinner for 10 people - in spite of the fact the turkey was cooked by 10am (physical laws evidently do not apply in Frankie's oven) it still worked out great and everybody was very appreciative. I insisted on cooking in my lucky turkey hat so everybody called me weird, because it's a Santa hat, but I'm superstitious about these things - that Santa hat's been with me since my first turkey (grin)