These are a few of my favourite things. This weekend also included a few of my favourite things. See the amusing yet extravagant way I incorporated my title into this journal? I'm great.
I will start from my drive on Thursday. I skipped my last lecture and managed to get back in about an hour and a half, to meet Sacha (one of my favourite things) at Morden Station. I arrived to see that I was half an hour early so I did the usual things one might do to entertain oneself. I read through all the messages on my phone, listened to all the music on my phone, looked at all the videos on my phone and reset my alarm clock. What the fuck would this day and age do without mobiles! Seriously I would have slit my wrists if I didn't have a phone that evening. Anyway it was fucking cold and finally Sacha arrived and I drove him home, whilst chatting of merry things such as ale and pies (that's what was in my head at least). When I arrived home, I was greeted with a FAT lasagne and garlic bread. I have never tasted anything so good since the time I was stranded in a snow storm and I shot a polar bear (stupid Family Guy impression). First evening was pretty average.
Friday was FIREWORKS DAY (another of my favourite things)! I was in a good mood because I'd done shit loads of work in the library. I think I only got so much done so quickly because I hadn't paid for a two hour's parking ticket. I just got the free one hour one, so I got scared and worked fast in case I got told off by some twat with curly hair and round glasses who you swear was Postman Pat in that kid's play you saw about 15 years ago. Anyway I met the lovely Name much later and she gave me a Martini STRAIGHT UP BITCH! And we toodled off to the station. Twenty minutes later we arrive in Clapham Common and the amount of fucking people there. I actually could barely move. I stank of fish because I was so sardine-like. Met Sacha with 6 bottles of wine, three shitty Rose crap and three white. It was cold. It was cold. It was cold. But the fireworks made me all warm and fuzzy inside. To Sacha's disappointment the fireworks ended after half an hour and even though the wine was keeping us warm, he still moaned about the cold. Name bought sparklers, which Toby, the knob, refused to join in with! So basically he travelled from god-knows-where to Clapham Common, missed the fireworks and then refused to partake in the merriment! What a November Scrooge.
Well we all went back to Nameling's house and drank more. I got grumpy because Sacha tried to undo her bra, but some well needed rough sex soon sorted that out. Now, we were staying in Name's front room, and you'd think all the sweat and body heat would warm up the room, but ooooh no. It was freezing. There was a glass of water that by the next morning I swear was ice. Not only was it cold, but Sacha decided to 'waste' the covers. I had practically none, and I was thirsty so got up to get water to find half of the bloody covers ON THE FLOOR! I hate you cover wasters (but you don't do it normally so it's fine).
We woke up on Saturday pretty early, both felt like shit from drinking too much wine, and I swerved the car home to get ready to go to an Open Air Museum with my parents and David and Sandra. I had to sleep on the way there or I would have thrown up the Titanic and probably most of New York. I could hear my parents bickering about directions and Sacha nervously laughing at them, but finally we got there. It was cold. It was cold. This is the boring part. We walked round some fucking old houses with terrible insulation and creepy baby cots. But we did get free food from the kitchen where they sampled what Tudor food would have been like. Cheese and leek bread. I will never forget it. Then we had this talk by this man who was literally a turtle in disguise. Snails have left their shells faster than he could talk! I'm not kidding. I resorted to leaning on Sacha, who was in turn, leaning on a pillar. We looked at some old stuff, like walking sticks. Thing is though some of them had been broken off, so it was basically a hook. WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE WANT TO KEEP THIS! It honestly looked like junk, until I found a jar of Waitrose Olives among the shelves which amused me greatly. We went home, ate steak and that was the end of a tiresom day 3.
This is a fucking long blog so I'm going to apologise now.
Right Sunday. I had planned to go to the cinema with Jazmin, David and Sacha (my favourite things). All was going well, I'd picked up Sacha, got some more petrol, picked up Jazmin and David in an impulse bad parking moment and we'd eventually gone to Epsom. This is when bad stuff happened. I thought it'd be nice if we all went for a drink and Sacha could watch the Chelsea match in the pub, so we'd bought our tickets, ordered drinks and some various pieces of food. Two hours later and I was fucking slaughtered. I'm not kidding, I have never ever been this drunk. Ten minutes into the film and apparently I'd decided to go and have sex with Sacha, so I walked out, Sacha follows with my things, and after that I can't remember much apart from puking next to a tree, hitting my head A LOT, and some nice lady looking down at me (apparently she asked if I needed an ambulance). All I can say is thank God Sacha was with me otherwise I would probably be in a ditch right now with some hobo named Ned. I'm also incredibly sorry for leaving Jazmin and David stranded in Epsom. The odd thing is, even though I was wondering in and out of consciousness, I still managed to walk home the short cut. This is what psychology talks about when they say you have different levels of consciousness, so thumbs up to Freud. His theories have been widely discredited as they are hard to prove, but get me drunk, put me in a maze and I guarantee I'll be able to get out quicker than your fucking mouse!
Anyway MONDAY MEAT DAY (another past-time of mine). Picked up the Sacha, drove to Toby's house, WENT TO BUTCHERS! Oh my God, I never knew I loved meat this much. We got the fattest steaks, literally about a foot and a half long each (which I got to cook), haggis, white pudding (I still haven't worked out what this is), pies. We also had bacon and ox tongue, but we didn't eat much of those. My God, I'm still dreaming about that steak. We ended up having a pretty ladish day. Meat, Schwarzenegger, and farting (on Toby's part), but Sacha did partake in bottom burping a little. I however could not even produce one measley burp. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH MY STOMACH!
Later I drove home, to meet my slightly offish parents and proceeded to drive home in about an hour, which according to the speed limit I should have done in an hour and a half. I have no patience as regards to motorways. It's a straight road and should be driven down fast (no criticising my evidently flawed logic).
So here I am back at Sibly and I'm sure you've had enough reading by now, and Sacha can now add this weekend to his memories. Thanks for reading and hopefully see you next time for another installment of LAURA'S SHITTY BLOGS.