hathycol | (no subject) (Reply)

Good grief, last night was stressful. I went out with the intention of, you know, going mad and having possibly a whole half pint and no more (antibiotics, people) and instead drank a whole pint and my legs got drunk. Rest of me? Sober as a judge.

So, you know, the dance machine was a spiffy idea. *facepalm*

I still went dancing in the Bop, but the whole atmosphere was a very strange one. Half the people involved were running around and trying to work out who got elected to what. Alas, Mohawk did not get elected. FOOLISH ELECTORATE. Saw

ann_pan, which was nice, and saw Richard Armitage on the big screen, which was nicer. *grins*

To be honest, though, I ended up spending most of the night talking to Phil, who was on security and bored. I was sober, and as such, the Bop was a bit horrific, mostly because the DJs were just as on edge as everyone else.

In the end, I went home early.

This morning, I've showered and washed my hair, so I feel a bit deflated and more like myself again. I know it's a stupid thing to get so excited about, but I do wonder if life would have been different if I hadn't had such ridiculously uncontrollable hair. And I did look nice. Tom Cahn (newly elected debates bloke) who I've known since first year hugged me enthusiastically and told me that I looked lovely. Big of an ego boost. I've never been told that at the Bop before. Eh. Silly girly Colleen. I know. Fourteen year old Colleen would have given anything to be told that, though, and Emo!Goth!Teenage!Colleen is still a tiny part of my brain. (Isn't it a part of everyone's brain?)

At the same time, though, I'm sat in my baggy jeans and a t-shirt from Tescos and a dodgy knock-off jumper with curly hair constrained in a plait, and weirdly, I feel much less self-conscious, because this is me and always will be, at heart. So there we are.

Still, I feel a bit out of sorts this morning. I'm tired, although I don't want to sleep. I've also been out to the chemists, and I'm a bit worried - I put a repeat precription in for the Pill on Tuesday and it still isn't at Boots. I'll have to phone up the doctor on Monday and see what's happening, and panic.

I have also got a pile of silly, historically dubious films, and combination of treating myself a little at Fopp and going mad in the library. I really wanted to watch Gladiator, or possibly Elizabeth, but both were out. Curses. So I have, ahem, Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and Master and Commander. These are my treats for after I've done my history research. I have far too much to do and far too little time.

I am also refusing to take the rubbish, recycling and bathroom bin out, or to clean the kitchen. It's always me that does it, and given I spent the last two nights sorting out food and doing the washing-up afterwards, I am Putting My Foot Down.

I am also putting Corinne's washing up in her bed. Everyone else does their washing up. She made a big batch of pancakes on... Tuesday? Wednesday? Either way, the washing up is still left on the side. NOT ON.

Ho hum. Off to learn about history and stuff before I envelop myself in films with bad history. Of all the guilty pleasures to have, I realise 'Historically Inaccurate' is bad, but there we are. Hell, I even like Braveheart.

[eta: OH MY GOD BUT NOW I DEAD OF SQUEE. DOCTOR WHO TRAILER! I am so taking over the Nisbet Room on that day.]