Thursday 10; June, 1999

email ` gbook ` i-seek-you ` handwriting
I went offline fairly early last night, after my own personal attempts at amatuer dramatics (I don’t respect myself either, don’t worry). I went to go have a bath, because our bathroom was so sparkly clean, but I discovered our tub’s actually really shallow, so I ended up freezing cold and had to take a shower instead. Clean pajamas, clean sheets – the scene was set for a perfect sleep.

But then again, because it was early (ie – 11ish) all the other punks that live here were still up and clattering around, so it took me like an hour to get to sleep. Then I woke up at 2ish, and was still wake at 3.30am. Darn darn darn.

Hmmmm. I wonder how long it’ll take before Simon realises he’s talking to ME on IRC. Hahahaha.

Oh, he just did. Darn. But it WAS really amusing cos he was reading aloud to me the things that I was saying to him. I’m on coffee beans again. Humour me.

Okay, so I dragged myself outta bed at like 7am today – it wasn’t very cool at all, eh bro. I had to get my shit together, including sheets and pins and inflatable animals to decorate our set with (kini, your animals are famous now), makeup and stylely clothes, and haul my ass and the rest of me into tech. I got waylaid on the way though, bailed up in the kitchen by Clayt who was hurt he didn’t get a hug last night when I went to bed (biiiiiiiiiiiig hug for Si, “night baby” to clayt, total ignoring of leyton). So I had to hug him, which I did with a piece of toast in one hand, and a coffee cup in the other. Gosh I’m affectionate.

TV Production went pretty well, I think. I ended my interview with “thanks for having us” cos I was being rushed by the floor manager, and I got all kerfuffled. Then either Nigel our director or Brad the vision mixer stuffed up at the end so that the camera was on me when it was Sacha’s lines, so Sacha didn’t read them. But hey. It’s over. And I met Francesa off Squeeze, cos Brad’s group was interviewing her. Nikki Lovrich was nice too.

Anyways, our whole tutorial group (11 people – which I guess isn’t that many) all went to Wendys for lunch, which made me feel ill. Ick. That’s okay. Then I went up the Midcity, to meet up with Thomas. Man, the Midcity is run down and derelict. The fact that there was a broken seat in between us speaks volumes. Woah man, I’m so deep, like dirty water, it’s so awful. And NO I didn’t go to Star Wars.

I did go home for a nap afterwards though. From the Choirgirl Hotel plan? Awake until half way through ‘Jackie’s Strength’, sleep through ‘iieee’ and ‘liquid diamonds’ then wake up in the middle of ‘she’s your cocaine’. Without You I’m Nothing gives me a longer sleeping period, but there is such a thing as overkill.

Flat frolicks when I got up and did the dishes, high jinks all around; mostly mocking Lurker – as usual. He wasn’t home.

In the evening, we watched That Seventies Show, and then Si and I went over to Kate’s. I made them pancakes while they played two handed 500 with nekkid men playing cards. Kate’s the creator of Stickworld, don’t you know? And Si has his page here. Love the way his journal’s called Anti-Jo. Kate and her flatmate Geoff both were pulling sneakies on their SO’s. It was amusing. So was the melting spatula. Needless to say, I didn’t many pancakes. Pulling burnt nylon out of my mouth is not my idea of fun. I didn’t tell Simon or Kate about that though. Shit. I’m busted now. Man you guys are so sneaky trying to stalk me by reading my journal anyways!

I’m digressing. Oh well. It’s my birthday in exactly a week. Big whoopadoodeedaaday.

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