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Oct. 21st, 2006 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolGosh, I'm tired.
Yesterday was... not fun. Vagina Monologue call-back was pretty rubbish, I think, judging by the fact I didn't get told any of the details about finding out who got in and who didn't, and by my spectacular lack of e-mail. This is quite unfair how they're doing that, to be honest - putting an e-mail to the end of a list saying 'this is the successful ones!' wouldn't be hard, and they did it to a lot of people and yeah I'm annoyed. I didn't think I would get in, but I did entertain a rather stupid image that maybe a little bit I might do.
Whatever. Drama girls are clique-y. I'm going to send an e-mail tomorrow querying how we find out if we got in, so they have to face me and explain why exactly they didn't bother to inform me to my face or at least my e-mail account.
Work was also sucky. Four. Deliveries. All. Night. So, no money for me this week.
Last night was also... bad in the sort of way that meant I was crying a bit with laughter and a lot with frustration by 5am.
It started at 1.30am. Sarah, her friend Rachel from Glasgow and two lads from the LGBT were in my kitchen. All had consumed rather a lot of alcohol so were, you know, noisy. With the door open. There was no chance of any sleep, so I decided to hang on for a little while and given them two hours.
I am, however, apparently The Destroyer Of Fun. I wandered in at 2.00am to make a cup of decaffinated tea, figuring if I was awake I may as well do some reading. It went silent as I entered.
"Carry on," I murmured, staring at the kettle.
"So," says one of the lads jovially, "your housemates are cocks, aren't they?"
I can take a joke, just not at 2am. "Nah," I replied, still staring at the kettle. "If I was, I'd be chasing you out of the house with a chair, given that it's 2am and you're all fucking noisy and woke me up." The room was silent apart from the kettle. "Don't let me stop you, though."
They left aout ten minutes later. So, I settled down into my bed and then... amateur DJ next door started up. This is three weekends on the trot and I had HAD ENOUGH. I went next door, in my pajamads and rang the doorbell for five minutes. No joy. I thumped on the door. No joy. I rang the doorbell again before wondering where to go to if I wanted to phone up the warden and cry at him and then, they answered the door.
I got very, very angry, they turned it off. All was well. I entered my house again at 2.30am, ready for a good night's sleep, or at least something approaching.
There was a loud banging from Corinne's room. "Can I borrow a condom?"
I facepalmed, went into my room, got my wee Freebies From The Union, Always Handy If Problems With Microgynon 30, and threw them through her door. "Be quiet, that's all I ask!" After all, I never hear Katie and Mohawk having sex, and they're randy little buggars.
Oh ho. Oh no. In a loud French accent, I have another few hours of enthusiastic cries of "Touch me!" (oh god really) and appreciative moans as, apparently, he agreed to do so. When you find ouyrself mentally willing your housemate to give a blowjob just so she'll shut up for half an hour, you know you're in trouble.
I contemplated shouting that through the wall. I contemplated going to sleep on Katie's floor. I contemplated sleeping under my desk, which is far away from the wall I share with Corinne. In the end, I turned my bed around and slept with my head under the pillow.
I am, as you might guess, a little moody and grouchy about this.
Tomorrow is Wyrd Sisters Massive Rehearsal Day. I get a hoody - I am very excited about this - and I try not to panic about the fact we are massively underprepared.
IT WILL OF COURSE BE WONDERFUL GET YOUR TICKETS OUTSIDE OF THE LIBRARY MONDAY SAN ANDREANS.
I should go and try to grab together my costumes for tomorrow so as to maximise sleeping time. I DO SO LOVE SLEEPING. MAYBE I WILL GET MORE THAN SEVEN HOURS TONIGHT.
~Hathy_Col~
Yesterday was... not fun. Vagina Monologue call-back was pretty rubbish, I think, judging by the fact I didn't get told any of the details about finding out who got in and who didn't, and by my spectacular lack of e-mail. This is quite unfair how they're doing that, to be honest - putting an e-mail to the end of a list saying 'this is the successful ones!' wouldn't be hard, and they did it to a lot of people and yeah I'm annoyed. I didn't think I would get in, but I did entertain a rather stupid image that maybe a little bit I might do.
Whatever. Drama girls are clique-y. I'm going to send an e-mail tomorrow querying how we find out if we got in, so they have to face me and explain why exactly they didn't bother to inform me to my face or at least my e-mail account.
Work was also sucky. Four. Deliveries. All. Night. So, no money for me this week.
Last night was also... bad in the sort of way that meant I was crying a bit with laughter and a lot with frustration by 5am.
It started at 1.30am. Sarah, her friend Rachel from Glasgow and two lads from the LGBT were in my kitchen. All had consumed rather a lot of alcohol so were, you know, noisy. With the door open. There was no chance of any sleep, so I decided to hang on for a little while and given them two hours.
I am, however, apparently The Destroyer Of Fun. I wandered in at 2.00am to make a cup of decaffinated tea, figuring if I was awake I may as well do some reading. It went silent as I entered.
"Carry on," I murmured, staring at the kettle.
"So," says one of the lads jovially, "your housemates are cocks, aren't they?"
I can take a joke, just not at 2am. "Nah," I replied, still staring at the kettle. "If I was, I'd be chasing you out of the house with a chair, given that it's 2am and you're all fucking noisy and woke me up." The room was silent apart from the kettle. "Don't let me stop you, though."
They left aout ten minutes later. So, I settled down into my bed and then... amateur DJ next door started up. This is three weekends on the trot and I had HAD ENOUGH. I went next door, in my pajamads and rang the doorbell for five minutes. No joy. I thumped on the door. No joy. I rang the doorbell again before wondering where to go to if I wanted to phone up the warden and cry at him and then, they answered the door.
I got very, very angry, they turned it off. All was well. I entered my house again at 2.30am, ready for a good night's sleep, or at least something approaching.
There was a loud banging from Corinne's room. "Can I borrow a condom?"
I facepalmed, went into my room, got my wee Freebies From The Union, Always Handy If Problems With Microgynon 30, and threw them through her door. "Be quiet, that's all I ask!" After all, I never hear Katie and Mohawk having sex, and they're randy little buggars.
Oh ho. Oh no. In a loud French accent, I have another few hours of enthusiastic cries of "Touch me!" (oh god really) and appreciative moans as, apparently, he agreed to do so. When you find ouyrself mentally willing your housemate to give a blowjob just so she'll shut up for half an hour, you know you're in trouble.
I contemplated shouting that through the wall. I contemplated going to sleep on Katie's floor. I contemplated sleeping under my desk, which is far away from the wall I share with Corinne. In the end, I turned my bed around and slept with my head under the pillow.
I am, as you might guess, a little moody and grouchy about this.
Tomorrow is Wyrd Sisters Massive Rehearsal Day. I get a hoody - I am very excited about this - and I try not to panic about the fact we are massively underprepared.
IT WILL OF COURSE BE WONDERFUL GET YOUR TICKETS OUTSIDE OF THE LIBRARY MONDAY SAN ANDREANS.
I should go and try to grab together my costumes for tomorrow so as to maximise sleeping time. I DO SO LOVE SLEEPING. MAYBE I WILL GET MORE THAN SEVEN HOURS TONIGHT.
~Hathy_Col~
