shirt

Sunday 2; May, 1999

I just got back from a walk in the rain to get Wendys. It tasted fucking good too, and the walk was gorgeous. I’m wearing my ‘shirt that’s her only friend’ right now. That’s a “My-so-called life” phrase that Karen decided to adopt for this shirt, because it used to be my constant companion. Like, I bought it second hand in November 1993, when the grunge thing was first starting to happen, and it was my favourite thing to wear right up until like late 1997. It’s been to every concert with me, worn it when “making out” for the first time, every party, every adventure. What was once really thick flannel is now semi-transperant from so much wearing and washing. It’s completly ragged, but it still just feels so right to wear. Perfect for a contemplative day at home, which is what I’m having now.

Thoughts are good, aren’t they? Our lounge is flooded AGAIN. Grrrrrrrr. AND there’s a hole in the my bedroom ceiling that’s leaking. I left a message on the Landlord’s answerphone, but he’s such a slack bastard I’d better try harder to hunt him down. Only problem is that I never asked him if it was okay to paint my room blue. Still, it looks fucking choice, so I don’t think that he can complain.

Oh yes, Shirley’s party.

Hmmm. I wore my gorgeous new velvet top, on top of another shirt, so i didn’t have bare arms. I was quite disturbed though, cos when I was showing Clayt my tops, he stuck out his hand and like, stroked the velvet. I mean, I know velvet is just begging to be touched, but honestly, this was a tight fitting top, so I just don’t think it was very kosher of him. So there’s my little rant.

I took a taxi to her house because it was raining, and I was feeling lazy. There weren’t all that many people there at first. All the flatmates dressed up as spice girls, except Richard, who really didn’t make much of an effort to be Ginger. We decided that he was her in her new Fergie stage instead. I guess because he’s only a flatemate since he’s going out with Nikki, he’s excused. Trudie really didn’t look much like Scary Spice, so I teased her hair. That didn’t help, but it was still fun to do.

I played Juvenille Drinking Games with a bunch of people from Waihi, until I decided that I felt too sick. I danced alone in the lounge for a while, because I felt like dancing and no one else was. I smoked drugs. I dragged Nikki outside in the rain with me because it was pouring so hard I felt compelled to. And besides, it was in sympathy with Olivia, who’d had her car break down and got soaked trying to fix it. I had a chat to Dee, who I hardly ever get to talk to. I ate vodka jellies. I felt tired and lonely and was pining, so I went and tried to take a nap on Shirley’s bed. Then someone spotted me in there, and the room filled up with people (yes, I’m THAT popular). I had an amusing chat with Nikki’s younger brother about how Auckland is the only place where men can drink wine and not get beaten up for it. His only frames of reference are Waihi and Hamilton, though. I watched Trudie’s friend G get carried out to the car, because she had alcohol poisoning. Shirley had her full on Saint John training thing going on – I was so amazingly in awe. They took her to the hospital, and the party quietened down after that. I got a phonecall on my cellie, and decided that that I was too tired, and the party was too weird now there was alcohol poisoning involved, and i wanted to go home. Luckily Gail, (clayt’s g/f) decided that she wanted to go find food somewhere, so I got a ride home with her in her classy red Mini.

It was a very good night, all things considered. I got to tell someone two things I’d been needing to tell them. So yeah, it’s a bit weird now, but I’m glad I was that honest.

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