Don’t you hate it when you edit a post and Xanga steals the first sentence you wrote? I’m sure it was something to do with nothing, but whatever nothing was, it was making me fed up …
I’m fed up with a lot of things actually.
I’m fed up of being scared [really] of answering the phone when The Father rings, to the point where I just don’t pick it up. This is partly to do with my phone phobia-esque-thing but also partly because I don’t want to talk to him. Why couldn’t he email me back like any normal person?
[edit … The Father phoned at 8pm. I spoke to him. It wasn’t so bad, I survived]
I’m fed up with feeling hard done by when it comes to my wedding. All my dreams of the day are being royally fucked by other people getting on with their lives, but getting their lives wrong which ultimately affects my day. And I have nobody to talk to about this because whoever I talk about it to will just make me feel exceptionally selfish and self-centred. Humpf.
I’m fed up with Romeo & Juliet. I love Romeo & Juliet, but I must have seen the first half of the 1996 film about a dozen times in the last month. Why can’t I work with kids who like to watch the end of films, goodness gracious dammit?
I’m fed up with being Piggy-in-the-Middle at work. It’s getting to the point where I just want to leave it all behind. Damn those you’ve been there two years, time to move on itchy feet of mine. Still, things are getting exciting. Unprofessional members of staff [tickling?!], children who bully staff [wtf?], a laid-back approach being equated with laziness [I don’t think so], and rumours of drinks in the pub …
This afternoon I had the oddest, most random thought, flit through my head … I don’t want to be alive because it means I’m going to die. And I don’t want to die. Except, it was a lot more powerful than that.
And I suppose that sums up my mood, really.
Still, I shouldn’t grumble – We’re off to see Pirates of the Caribbean Numero deux tomorrow evening. Sitting in posh seats and drinking vodka whilst gazing adoringly at Johnny Depp *sigh*. What could be nicer?
Please God bless my party-pooper mood xxx Elsabeth