Sunday 1st October
Well, the tan took a big leap today, from "non-existent" to "angry red with pasty stripes" but it was all worth it. Today we took a trip up to Death Valley and it really was majorly spectacular. Bit of a clan reunion, as the trip included Father Hand, Uncle Dave and Cousin Pete and myself, along with Frankie and her two treasures (aged 7 and 11). We left pretty early but hit the middle of the valley in the late afternoon, due in part to a slight detour to view a ghost town (I was going to do a virtual tour and add digital ghosts but then it seemed a bit too much like hard work) and a house built out of bottles, instead of bricks. I like this idea - picture the scene: you want to build a house in the middle of the desert, but after hauling all the bricks you're about ready to keel over with thirst. So, instead, you haul out bottles of beer, drink the beer, then build the house with the bottles. This is logic. The ghost town around the bottle house was all in ruins - real ruins in a country as young as America - very impressive. The reason we got stuck in said ghost town for longer than intended was because I spotted a big rock and decided to try and climb it. Only, well, it was further away than I thought, and when we got there (Cousin Pete, myself and Little Treasure) it was too steep to climb. So instead, we scrambled up higher and sat on a rock above the steep one.
The views were pretty spectacular. We confirmed our insanity by climbing up a big mountain in the middle of the day in the pounding heat; as an extra comfort, when we reached the top, a big vulture started circling above us and squawking disconcertingly. I did a wonderful job of remembering to take my water bottle but ignored the fact it only contained about 2 inches of water. The three of us did a great job of climbing the mountain, but ignored the fact we had no way of getting down. That part was quite fun. Ha ha. There's me, trying to stop Little Treasure from slipping over and cracking his head open in the middle of the desert, giving helpful advice on how to avoid sliding on the loose gravel littering these steep rock faces, and who is the only person who falls over? C'est moi. Yeah, I fell right on my arse and then, just to ice this cake, slid a few feet so I skinned an entire thigh. It didn't hurt too much though, not at the time anyway. Oh how we laughed. I laughed even harder when I realised I had just stood out in the blazing sun in a vest for the best part of an hour and left my sunscreen in its bottle in the car. To say I've caught the sun....well. Skin cancer's a few years off, at least.
So then we continued onto Death Valley, which is, for those of you who aren't in the know, the lowest part of the United States (at 300 feet below sea level) and also one of the hottest places in the world (highest recorded temperature - 134 degrees faranheit - although while we were there it maintained a comfortable 105). The valley floor is shimmery white, from the salt which has remained following the evaporation of the water. It looks like the ocean, actually, it's very pretty. We stopped to look at a dried up river bed which had a crust of salt on the mud (I know it was salt - I tasted it); then we walked around the museum. It was called Death Valley by the first settlers who tried to cross it, in 1849, even though only one of them died. More on this in my US Bunnyland "Things I Have Done" section, after I've read up on it a bit.
Anyway, after that we went on up to Zabriskie Point which was pretty breathtaking, surrounded by craggy mountains of white volcanic ash topped with dark lava floes - suspiciously resembling heaps of vanilla ice cream drenched in chocolate sauce - and if you think I was hallucinating due to dehydration, wait until you see the pictures. After that we went further up to Dante's View, which is a mile above the valley floor, and we were lucky enought to reach it just as the sun was setting, so I have now had the opportunity to watch a sunset over one of the most spectacular views in the world. For ages, the sky was pink all the way around, with red and orange to the west and purple overhead, and the valley floor stretched out below us, a huge lake of salt crust. The temperature was much more bearable so we lay on the pavement and watched the stars come out until we could see a number of constellations. Big Treasure carved my name in the post bearing the visitors information, so if anyone ever goes up there, look out for it. It was totally still, totally silent (apart from the treasures, who made a convincing case for mass sterilisation by constantly playing football near the edge of the drop, and trying to push each other over) and totally a place I want to visit again. Two shooting stars (I made the same wish twice, so it had better come true) (try and guess what it was, heh, answers on a postcard....), 3 satellites and a long gaze through binoculars at the Milky Way later, we decided to head back towards the massive glow, which was Vegas, visibly lighting up the sky even though it was over 100 miles away. 50 miles away we made out the huge spotlight which the Luxor Hotel and Casino beams upwards into the sky. Shortly after that, Vegas rose out of the desert like a big city of a million people with a lot of lights in it. And here we are. Cousin Pete and I have been viewing the days antics captured on video camera as our respective fathers have both decided to stay out tonight. I'm frantically rubbing Calming Aloe into the back of my neck to avoid peeling but I don't know if it's working or not. Feels pretty good, though.
The rest of the week has been pretty good. I haven't done much, that might be why it's been pretty good. Wednesday night Frankie and I went to a club called the Beach, where they sell Guiness, but no cider unfortunately, and we had a lot of fun looking at people, in particular a man in skin tight leopard skin trousers who was getting quite a bit of female attention but would have been immediately identified as swinging the other way had he been in any English club I have ever been to. I got asked to dance by somebody about the same age as Father Hand, but declined. It seems the majority of people here only dance when they have a member of the opposite sex dancing with them, which seems weird to me. This club was pretty amazing, for blokes, since it was staffed by a bunch of girls in thong bikinis who, for a fee, would push you to your knees and pour booze down your throat from large bottles, holding a towel to your chin to stop you from spewing all over yourself, whilst your head was thrust into, um, silicon heaven. I saw at least 6 of these girls, working the club in pairs, along with 3 girls staffing coolers full of beer. In contrast, I saw 1 bloke employed to do the bottle trick with the women. One? Oh please. Frankie and I have pledged to go back on a Sunday or a Monday, when women drink free before midnight (oh what have they let themselves in for) and men dressed merely in swimwear are admitted free for the "Studs n Suds" contest. This is an astonishingly clever idea, if you think about it - not only do you get to see your prey in a state of undress before you decide if you can be bothered to hunt, but you know he's clean, too. Inspired.
Friday night we went to the Orleans again, the casino we went to last week, and saw a superior band playing and danced some. Oh that it should come to this, that I be dancing with family members and their women on a Friday night feeling round, and green, and good stewed with sugar in a pie, and that upon complaining about my recent bouts of insomnia, have it suggested to me, by Father Hand himself, that I need to get laid. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Happily, Molly turned out to be a fellow drinker, so the night seemed less desolate after 3 gin and tonics in half an hour. Cousin Pete and I also had a chance to ride the Manhattan Express, a rather good rollercoaster forming part of the New York New York casino complex. A picture of us can be found in US Bunnyland, my newest feature. Tomorrow we hope to see the pirate ship battles or the Hoover Dam, or both. But for now, I feel that conquering a small mountain and spending the day in heats above the temperature of blood might just have cured my insomnia. Which is just as well, considering.
Monday 2nd October
And thus ends another weekend. Actually, it's still Sunday night for me but for the majority of my readers it's Monday afternoon so I shall bow to reader pressure. I forgot to write something that happened to me on Friday which I thought might provide a little Monday amusement, or indeed, amusement at whatever time you happen to read this.
Being a helpful sort of person (and all those people who have lived with me and seen my kitchen - I said I was helpful - not that I am helpful towards *myself*) I decided to load the dishwasher and run it for Father Hand on Friday, be a nice surprise for him when he came home from work, and I might earn my keep a little. So, I loaded it up (yes, I know how to load a dishwasher, although I have never owned one, since Mother Hand should not be counted among my possessions (well, cheap shot, but yknow, she buys special rubber gloves to keep in my house so she can do dishes when she visits)) and then hunted around for the soap, but, well, all I could find was this bottle of white, gooey stuff next to the sink which said "dishwasher soap" on the label. Underneath, in little red letters, it said "not for use in automatic dishwashers"...oh, I'm sorry, it said, "WARNING: not for use in automatic dishwashers" but I thought, nyah, Father Hand often ignores warnings, this must be one of those times, so I poured a healthy dose into the little cup shaped holder, closed it up and set it going, settled back down to Virgin Radio, ICQ and Hearts.
About 20 minutes later, I noticed that the dishwasher had sort of a muffled sound to it, so I ignored it for about 5 minutes, guessing what it must be, and sure enough when I went round there, white foam was oozing out of the bottom at a medium to slow rate, so I threw a towel under the edge and went and sat back down and continued to win at Hearts....
....you're right, I'm lying. I continued to get my arse kicked in Hearts....
....for about another half an hour when I turned to rest my eyes by staring into the distance, and caught sight of the mirror. The entire wall to my right is mirrored doors, hiding the washing machine and dryer; the kitchen is directly behind the computer, so I am facing it, but there's this benchy type thing so I can't see into it. I can see into it via the mirrors, however, and what I saw looked honestly lunar in its mountainous white fluffiness. So, naturally, I started running around like a headless chicken, trying to scoop it up in a dustpan since there is no mop (Father Hand informs me, "The place doesn't get dirty when you aren't here, and I have a little Mexican lady come in, ohhh, once a year") when in walked Uncle Dave and Cousin Pete, who wasted no time at all in standing and laughing at my predicament as I stamped around in the puddles....PUDDLES....on the kitchen floor. Then they helped me clean up, which was good of them, with the bath towels, which were all we could find.
Think it can't get any worse (read: funnier)? I washed the (never-been-washed-navy) towels with Father Hand's (white) bath robe and it turned a pretty marbled blue.
Today it was suggested I make coffee, but I declined. I'm just going to stick to taking the rubbish out and drinking gin, since these things I can do well.
The pictures from Death Valley are nearly ready, some of them came out amazingly well whilst some came out like Bunnivision on Psychedelic Night (when I forgot to let the camera adjust to the light before pointing and clicking) so watch out for my new feature - coming soon - "Bunnies On LSD". I'll try and sort that out tomorrow, although it may well expose me to merciless teasing again from clan members. Uncle Dave has (rightly) surmised that he has a 10 minute window of opportunity to call, between the time that I wake up (and can therefore hear the phone ringing) and the time that I get online, and since he has no idea when that 10 minutes will be (although he guesses (rightly) that it will be some time between midday and 2pm) he just has to show up. Today, I logged off, and one minute later Frankie called and asked me to go online and look up the film times at the cinema for The Exorcist (which we saw tonight - which might be why I'm still up - although it was good to see it again: I kept my eyes open most of the time and saw all the bits I missed last time). See - when the fans need you, you have to respond.
That's all from me. I have to go and berate myself for not getting a job in time for the impending visit of the Grandparents Hand, who suggest to me that "it's not right to be sponging of your dad at your age, is it" and assure me that "we'll nag you about it when we get there". They are staying a month. I have checked my bank balance to make sure I have enough money for a plane ticket home if necessary, where I can GO BACK TO THE JOB WHICH HAS SUPPORTED ME FOR THE PAST 4 MONTHS, or failing that, GET ANOTHER JOB AND SUPPORT MYSELF, AS I HAVE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST 5 YEARS, or failing that, LIVE OFF THE MONEY I SAVED, LIKE A RESPONSIBLE PERSON, TO PAY MY BILLS FOR THE NEXT 12 MONTHS.
No, I'm not rankled at all.
Wednesday October 11th
My daddy spoils me. God help him, he needs to be careful because I might never leave (smile) He came into some money in the casino last Friday which is how I have come to be sitting in front of the aforementioned Pentium III 500, which now has a DVD drive and a 20 gig hard drive. And, of course, the purple keyboard. I think he needs Tim here to appreciate the technical side of things; myself, I'm having so much fun with the killer speakers and webcam that I just don't have time. I've copied all my MP3s onto the hard drive - there are over 3 gig of them, so I'm going to be popular on Napster, I think, and unpopular with the neighbours. And I've been given some nice software to hook my webcam up with, it's amazing how nice people can be when they realise that if they help you they might have an outside chance of catching a computerised glimpse of your breasts (yeah, really, like that'll happen). I haven't worked out how to get the image to feed to my webpage yet, but rest assured, soon I will - and then it'll be Bunny Queen, Live and Uninterrupted on *your* monitor. What a terrifying thought.
Not much else has been going on really; Uncle Dave and Cousin Pete left last Tuesday, so I've been laying about playing Hearts most of the time. I was not a happy bunny on Friday night, since Father Hand went out "to collect Frankie from the casino" and did not return for nearly 5 hours and I was stuck here playing endless rounds of Hearts because I'm not clever enough for Freecell; then he came back and told me he'd won a grand on the video poker and put it all back in. Then he handed me this roll of hundreds and I nearly passed out. I have never seen so much money - I even took a picture of it. So, it was difficult to be angry after that, heh.
Last night Frankie and I went to The Beach ('saclub) with a friend of her daughter's who wanted to try out her new fake ID. She turned up in leather jeans and this low cut sparkly vest top and high heeled boots and she looked fabulous, older than me at any rate, since I turned up in the only dress I brought with me which doesn't need mending and comfortable shoes (note to self: you have no clothes for going out in - rectify this). But when we got to the door they turned her away and also kept her ID, which she had paid 160 dollars for. I felt really bad for her; thank goodness I didn't grow up here because I would not be the person I am today, hehe. I faked my own ID on the photocopier in Mother's Hand's office when I was 15 and it worked fine, in England and, come to think of it, in Florida. Oh well.
The Beach was a lot of fun, it was free drinks for women before midnight, but I got a little confused because they handed us 2 drinks vouchers on entry and I thought that was it. So I tried to make it last and didn't use the second one until 11.30 but then the barman told me I could go and get more tickets; so I ended up drinking another 5 gin and tonics in the twenty minutes before it turned midnight. Drunk? Thank god, yes (laugh) I wasn't very drunk, 7 gins doesn't make much of a dent, probably because I am used to cider now. But it was enough to ensure that when Frankie dropped me off at home I spent nearly 5 minutes dancing around in the rain and missing England until my look became drownedratesque and I started to shiver. I hate to sound like a lush, and I suppose it is frowned upon for ladies to get wrecked, but happily I'm not much of a lady so I had fun. Some lesbian tried to pick me up which I did find quite scary, men are easy to get rid of but women are uncharted territory for me. Then her friend. who had invited us to dance in the first place and was wearing this really obnoxious shirt said something rude to Frankie and I ended up in conversation with him, thus -
Song playing: "Ring My Bell" by Anita Ward
Slime: I just told your friend she could lick my bell if she wanted and I think I offended her
Me: Ha! Well I might have to beat you now, because she's my dad's girlfriend...
Slime: (WOAH look)
Me: ...and I feel bound to protect her honour
Slime: Well I'm only here on vacation, I don't want any trouble
Me: Good! (try to move away)
Slime: (Grabs my arm) So if she doesn't tell your dad, I won't
Me: Well I might!
Slime: (Begins to look slightly psycho) No you wouldn't, would you tell on your dad if he did something like that?
Me: Er, yes
Slime: No you wouldn't no you wouldn't
Me: (thinks) Please, how could you possibly know?
Me: (says) I would
Slime: Well....I'm a nice guy, a really really nice guy
Me: (thinks) Your definitions are totally screwed up
Me: (says) uh huh
Slime: Can you go and get me a beer? Free drinks for women before midnight and all
Me: (thinks) Get bent!
Me: (says) No, I only have one ticket left
The moral of this story is that if the shirt is obnoxious, the man might well be as well. He struck me as the sort of man who, if he had gone to see his ex-girlfriend with some friends for the first time in a year, and she asked him if he would mind staying a little bit later than the others because she had some things to say to him which had been a long time formulating in her mind and which she really wanted to say but now never will, would say no and then go outside and imply to his assembled waiting friends that she had asked him to stay for sex. That sort of man.
Happily, I no longer have to know any men like that.
Friday October 13th
I thought I had better leave updating for a day because after uploading the previous entry, I got into an argument with my dad about what day it was, and it turned out that it was indeeed only Wednesday, and that my date stamp was wrong. It wouldn't let itself be fixed until I did it via DOS which wasn't actually as scary as it always seems - I think it's just because it resembles the Black Screen of Death so much, I get nervous.
I have to share this error message which I got last night when I was trying to install a new game, because it just amused me to such an extent. It said, "Something gimp happened and this will be a lame fuckup crash!" No, I'm deadly serious. I think surely Microsoft cannot have discovered honesty at this late stage, so I think they should take a leaf out of this book, because even though I felt really stupid for trying to open the installer before I had unzipped all the files (I do that ALL the time though) and I had to reboot my machine, it was totally 100% worth it for that message.
Thursday October 12th
That was a scary moment, I could have sworn it was only Tuesday....Thursday already! New series of Friends tonight, woo hoo.
I don't really have much to say but to relate an fairly amusing incident that occurred sometime earlier today when normal people would be up and out of bed but when I was still peacefully dead to the world under the duvet, having vowed to sleep until I was pretty again - I should probably still be there, in that case. But anyway I was having this dream about having to go down a water slide in a glass barrel and thinking I was going to drown, which then turned into a dream about the Thug, but whilst in the middle of this dream - which was actually surprisingly pleasant - and that's no slur on him, it's just that the vast majority of my dreams are very disturbing - I turned over in my sleep and thwacked my head so hard against the wall I was instantly awake and ready to throw up what was left in my stomach after the night's digestion from the pain. So now I can't decide if it was just coincidence or whether I subconciously wanted to wake myself up.
The former, I suppose, but well, it's fun to consider all the possibilites (grin).
Two things I need help with -
1. I am trying trying trying to get the version of Queen's "Flash Gordon" with Dale shouting, "FLASH! I LOVE YOU BUT WE ONLY HAVE 14 MINUTES TO SAVE THE WORLD!" and I can't seem to get hold of it...any suggestions? I have downloaded the *entire* soundtrack from Napster and it's starting to get very frustrating.
2. Anybody in the King's Cross area - can you please pop into Sally's Diner and ask them if Zoe is still working there because I have a late birthday present for her and I have no address to send it to. That's sort of not terribly important though, just if anybody is there.
Sunday October 15th
I have been pondering recently the lengths one can go to please oneself without being labelled as selfish and totally without thought for others.
I want to start with a brief illustrative point. I'm not naming any names but you know who you are (smile). Recently a friend of mine mentioned that he had gone into a shop selling DVDs and, feeling a bit flush (as always) decided to pick up a few. On his list was *not* "Independence Day - Special Edition" but he happened to pass a sales assistant stocking a shelf who dropped said DVD, so he picked it up and added it to the pile. A few moments later, some poor hopeful burst through the door and asked the sales assistant whether they happened to have a copy of "Independence Day - Special Edition", whereupon the sales assistant turned to the rack saying, "Yes, I think we have one copy left." My friend then waved said DVD in the air and said, "Not now you don't!" before making his way to the counter and purchasing his new stock. In an attempt to justify his actions, he pointed out that a few days earlier he had been denied the opportunity of eating a McFlurry because, and I quote, "some bastard had had the last of the ice cream just before I got there" - this, he seemed to think, made it quite alright to swipe the last copy of a DVD he didn't want from under the nose of someone who had possibly travelled 100s of miles to purchase it. (That's a bit harsh, heh, but I'm only winding you up, Mystery Friend).
So, now, to me, that seemed just slightly, just very very slightly mind, out of order. Of course, if Mystery Friend has watched "Independence Day - Speical Edition" a few times since he bought it that makes things better; he will doubtless also claim that it was his vast DVD collection that recently swung him a place in a bachelor pad he was trying to move into and so this makes it perfectly fine. I'm reserving judgement; I think if I had been in his place I would have given the poor hopeful the DVD and enjoyed the warm glow I get when I do nice things for other people. Mystery Friend, stop sneering, yes, I can see you! I would do a survey to discover what the rest of you think but know from experience that I get, on average, less than one reply for every survey I do so I won't bother.
Joey once had a bet with Phoebe, on Friends, that there was no such thing as a totally unselfish act - no such thing as something you do for somebody that you don't personally get something out of. That too left me pondering for some time and although I think I worked out that it wasn't the case I forgot to write it down and then got distracted by something else (most likely a boy) so I've forgotten it now. *Sigh* I've done that with so many things....a method for achieving world peace, the meaning of life, et cetera.
But I digress.
The thing is, I am thinking of upping sticks and moving to a new city on my return to England, cementing my nomadic lifestyle (woah, cool oxymoron) and giving me a taste of a new city before I move back to the big smoke for my Masters (which would be deferred for another year). I have several motives for this, not least of these being that I like Bath and the university specialises in education, making it a good choice for a PGCE. However, it would sort of mean trekking across the country with my considerable possessions to a city where I don't know a soul (apart from, I think, someone in my class at uni who I wasn't terribly good friends with anyway) and where I might find my lack of driving licence (note - licence, not skills - I do not doubt my driving skills, but I fear an examiner might. Of course, I can learn from Mystery Friend's mistakes and *not* drive up the offramp of a dual carriageway in my test) (I'm sorry Mystery Friend, you are ever the easy target)...where was I? Oh yes...where I might find my lack of driving licence a severe impediment. But on the other hand, the 6 grand PGCE payout would go a lot further outside London, and the schools I get sent to might be nicer than London schools. I know, I can hear *you* disagreeing with me but it's nice to have illusions about things (smile).
So the three-year Sally plan might run - return to England in March, work for 6 months in London, decamp to Bath, study for PGCE, abandon West country life for London again, study for Masters, et voila...the end of my plans to date. We are of course ignoring the following factors: me not getting a place to do a PGCE in Bath (likely since I am not available for interview and there is a glut of history teachers), acts of God, death, or me falling in love and getting married and settling down to have babies (note: acts of God came first - I'm just pointing out all possible interferences, in order of likeliness.) This plan, as detailed above, would make me happy in that it would bring me closer to achieving my ultimate goal of getting a job which will not bore me to tears after the first 6 months. I might then return to the family fold over here and hang around until I get a green card because you never know when it might come in handy. Or I might do a PhD and arrogantly insist on being called Dr Hand and that any future suitors agree to us being known as "Dr and Mr (insert surname here) (or maybe Hand)" after marriage which should be sufficient to scare off the most ardent of admirers. Or maybe I'll be a successful novelist by then and spend my life swanning around the world as an International Bunny of Mystery. Maybe I'll lose two-thirds of my body weight and become a famous aerobics instructor. Alright, now we're just verging on the ridiculous so I'll get to the point.
The point being - if this plan is going to make me happy, should I let others interfere with it and change my mind? For example, if my friends in London (mentioning no names Miss Bell) guilt me about abandoning them again, should I try and stay in London and do a PGCE there? Or if other people try and insist that my motives for moving to the other side of the country might not be entirely pure, should I take note of what they say and change my mind? And if I ignore all advice, does this make me (a) stupid, (b) selfish, (c) strong-willed enough to follow my dream regardless of consequences, or (d) can you tell this has been on my mind a lot recently?
Enough of my incessant rambling about this, anyway, and onto some incessant rambling about something else. Do you realise that I have been incessantly rambling here for nearly a year now? A year at the end of this month, and people are still reading! A quick word count reveals approximately 74,357 words (approximately) - nearly five times the length of both my dissertations combined. I really wish somebody would pay me to write this because I would be rich.
It has certainly be an interesting week with regards to the advent of my webcam. As mentioned perviously, I was lucky (and I use the word loosely) to have met online a person who was much more excited about it than I was and sent me a number of pieces of software to use in conjunction with it; I think he was counting on me being grateful enough to take my clothes off and dance around naked in front of the camera for his pleasure. Oh foolish boy, the only time I ever take my clothes off and dance around naked when there are other people - electronically or otherwise - within viewing distance, bar pagan sacrifices, is in the dark and even then I have to be quite horrendously drunk to avoid instinctively hitting the floor and curling up into as small a ball as I can manage (not very small). (People find it difficult to believe it but I am in truth a very shy person, possibly this is directly linked to my also being a very fat person, but as an example, I generally insist on 2 duvets when I am sharing a bed so that I can swipe one to hide under should I need to get out of the bed first.) So, anyway, what was my point again? Well, I didn't really have one. But anyway - the webcam is fully operational via Netmeeting so anybody dying for a glimpse of me should find me on ICQ (27535547) and ask nicely.
Live footage of me 24 hours a day will regrettably (or not) be available since I need a permanent connection for that, and in spite of several ADSLless people denouncing me as an idiot for not taking advantage of the completely free ADSL my ISP offers, I shall not be getting one, since I do sometimes walk around naked when nobody is here and would not like either my privacy destroyed or to subject some poor unfortunate to sights they didn't bargain for. Yes, I sit in front of my monitor and pluck my eyebrows when I think nobody is looking, it's not pretty.
Sunday October 22nd
Well, since last writing I have received my application forms for the PGCE, and now I fear everything I wrote last week is obsolete since they state that nobody will be accepted without a personal interview and unless they count Netmeeting I'm afraid I don't think I'll be able to provide that. But, I also received an email from a friend of mine who is doing a history PGCE with some useful information in it, and on her instruction I went and got the National Curriculum outline for history and I know about 5% of the stuff on it, so I think a bit more research might be necessary anyway.
This means, of course, that I can return to England in March, move anywhere in the country I like, work for a year, skip the country for another 6 months, and then come back and do the Masters. It's really putting it off a little longer than I would like to, but at least I might wrestle my way up to the lip of the pit of debt if I do that. I could go back to Virtual Universe but I could also do anything else. For example, I could take the veil, since I hear there aren't enough nuns these days so they might have lowered the entry requirements (although not being Catholic might be a stumbling block). I could live anywhere (Mother Hand's, for example) and work on the chatlines and earn enough money to pay off *all* my debts (if I faked orgasms for 10 hours a day, 7 days a week for 6 months) (much as I did with certain ex-boyfriends) (sorry, it was obligatory that I make that joke). I can't honestly say I know where I would move to, mind you, since I never thought of living anywhere except London, but it would be cheaper to go somewhere else. Maybe I should buy a map and stick a pin in it. I'd better make sure it's a map of England though, I don't want to end up somewhere in France.
We've just finished moving my computer across the apartment and onto its plush new desk, from which vantage point I can see the TV and indeed, use my machine from the couch. Father Hand has been so pleased with my napster efforts (I have managed to find an album he has been looking for for 25 years, heh heh heh) that he's talking about shipping the entire machine back to England for me when I leave. I'm trying to talk him out of it, of course, but I'm not trying very hard. We spent much of the day clearing out the closet in my room, and we came across enough cable to stretch twice around the world (probably), enough 486 pieces to kit out all the computers at SSEES (386s at present), an ultra-violet light which I have claimed, a print out of the web page Colin wrote for me when I was 16, including a profile bearing the legend "Dress sense: jeans" (it has been approximately 4 years since I last wore jeans, ever), a lost Shakespearean sonnet, the face of the Madonna......My room is now cluttered and untidy, but at least you can get into the closet (grin). Father Hand tells me that last night he dreamed I was being hung, only my captors were inept so they couldn't get the length of the rope right, and they couldn't decide where to make me stand, and Father Hand was running and trying to save me. Yesterday he says he dreamed I had no money and I was being a real bitch to him, which I regard as a premonition rather than a dream, but oh well.
This week has been rather more interesting than the others for a few reasons. Firstly I met someone from ICQ in real life and ignored my superstition about younger men for the afternoon and had a very good time (cackle). Secondly I went to the International Gaming Show, which is the biggest trade fair for casinos in the world and took me the entire afternoon to walk around. It was like one big, free casino with giveaways and dancing girls and the JCM stand (Father Hand's company) had a different baseball star every day autographing mini baseball bats which could be won by playing a glass slot machine Father Hand built. I went and asked the man at the Young Electric Sign Company (Yesco) stand about the graveyard of old casino signs (as seen in Mars Attacks) and he said it wasn't open to the public, but he gave me his card and told me to give him a call and he would show me around anytime I wanted. I must remember to wear the outfit I had on that day more often, it really seems to be lucky (laugh). I have wanted to visit that place since I saw it in an Elle photo shoot when I was 13.
Well, that was my week. I have one special announcement to make: I'm really sorry to everyone about that horrible pop-up advert which mysteriously appeared recently in spite of Crosswinds promising it wouldn't. I'm currently looking into places to move my site to again; today I got an interesting email saying my site had been recommended (My site! recommended! my site!) for a thing called TerraShare, which also uses banners but with the slight difference that I get paid for it. I'm thinking that it seems I have to have banner ads wherever I go these days so I might as well be reaping a reward. Watch this space! And if you are the person who recommended me - THANKYOU! I'm truly flattered.
Friday October 27th
What an interesting week. It's not very interesting at the moment, as I sit alone at home for the zillionth Friday night in a row...well I suppose it's not that bad. It was just last month that I spent a Friday night vegged out on the couch dying to find out who had won Big Brother in spite of the fact that I strenuously avoided watching so much as a single episode for the entire run of the series, talking to Jen on ICQ in spite of the fact she was sitting adjacent to me on the couch, not drinking wine in spite of the fact I had bought 3 bottles of the stuff. Ah, happy days.
But enough of such nostalgia. In typically me-with-nothing-to-do style, I have had several bright ideas this week as to my future plans. The first was triggered by my calling the Vegas Girl Scout office and offering to volunteer for them during the week, keep busyish and that. The woman on the phone brought up the subject of summer camp without me even having to ask, and then asked me if I had any camp director experience which left me in shock since, well, I'm 22 and have one summer's experience, and I never pay my bills on time so really couldn't be trusted to budget an entire camp for a whole summer. So then she asked me if she could interview me for the program director job which I do like the sound of, since I would be planning all camp programs and the job would probably involve me starting in the spring. I'm not sure if I could do it, but well, the worst that can happen is that a bunch of children have a miserable summer. So, that's quite exciting because it means I can stay here for the whole year AND go back with some money.
Then, I went to try and get a driver's permit so I could learn to drive while I was here, only to find that I am persona non grata as far as the DMV are concerned since I only have a tourist visa. This led me to think of all the things I don't have to go back to England for in September next year (in fact, the only thing calling me back is the expiration of my overdraft facility, and I'm sorry but that's a reason to stay away in my book) and then I started thinking of applying for a green card under Father Hand's sponsorhip, because I know the process takes years and I have a couple of years free. Father Hand told me the waiting list is 3 years though, so that probably won't happen, but it's something to think about.
I was sort of miserable for most of the week because my ISP has for some reason stopped connecting me, and the customer helpline number didn't work, and so now I have to use this horrible ISP with its ultra-annoying ad bar irritating me at every turn (the damn thing even breaks through the screensaver, for crying out loud). I have decided not to try and crack it though, since the more it annoys me, the more I whinge, and the more likely Father Hand is to fork out for a new account for me somewhere else. I fear I am turning into a devious spoilt brat but that's the way the cookie crumbles....mmm, cookie....I want a cookie, me me me.
I realised today that actually my life here is exactly the same as my life in England, except that I don't spend 8 hours a day working, I divide those 8 hours between sleeping and mooching. This is not depressing because I don't know anybody here yet, or because I spend 80% of my time alone. It is depressing because now I realise that even in London, where I had friends and bars to go to where I knew people and public transport good enough to get around on, I still spent my life as I spend it in a city where I can count the people I know on the fingers of one hand and cannot go anywhere because I don't have any means of getting anywhere. I really am a truly boring person. While other people went out and enjoyed London as it should be enjoyed, I sat on the sofa watching the Simpsons on a black and white TV which is older than I am. Often, the highlight of my week was finding out they were doing three for the price of two on Haribo Star Mix in Asda. The last party I had was attended by two people and we ended up getting drunk and going to Asda and serenading the sausage rolls in the freezers. The very fact that I have mentioned Asda twice in two sentences should alert people to the following fact - I'm only 22 and I am living the life of someone three times that. Was, was...let's be positive about this, I can always return a changed person.
In boy matters, I had an interesting experience this week. The bloke I met up with last week asked me several times when I would be meeting up with him again. I was sort of reluctant due to the mere fact that I considered him to be out of my league and I don't like to form relationships of any kind with men who are too good looking (in terms of popular opinion, I mean - of course I don't form relationships with people I personally don't think are good looking, blah blah) as I'm always wondering what the hell they are doing with me. (It's quite a sad indication of my current frame of mind that I am considering more than one date to be a relationship of any kind, but oh well.) But anyway, he seemed quite insistent and my ego got the better of me so I agreed to meet him again, this afternoon. But then last night, he told me he had to work. In fact he said he has to work for the next 7 days in a row. I can take a hint! Father Hand thinks maybe he does just have to work for the next 7 days in a row and I suppose he might have a point but the cynical crone in me is pointing out that I went against my better judgement and see - look what happened. This, coupled with this frankly horrifying realisation that I might possibly be pining just a little bit for a boyfriend of any description (and Jen YOU FOR ONE can stop looking so smug, it's probably hormonal and will hopefully pass in a couple of days), has led to a depressing week's end.
So, I'm not only boring - I'm lonely too. I had better be careful or I might turn into one of those people who writes a diary and keeps it online for people to read because they don't have real lives to go out and live.
Oh, bollocks.