More about not-so-Mental Mickey.

OK, I have a small retraction to make: It wasn'tentirely Michael's fault that his loan forms got fecked up. The County Council have clearly been fucking it all about- they tried to tell my mother this morning that they sent it all back to her in May... She calmly informed them that they must've been bloody psychic because the form wasn't sent to them until June. Then she's talking to some bird at work whose daughter is going this year too and who hadn't got the forms back- she didn't even know when a lot of it had to be done by because she's not had any kids go to university before.

That said, had my imbecilic little fool been paying attention to his life he would've noticed. He might not get the first instalment of his loan on time because he's not sent the stuff in a month before starting (only someone who knows someone who's had to do it before would really know small details like this) but he's got the bits of paper that will get him enrolled, which are important. Git-face was in a better mood today, and as you can see, I'm on the computer at a relatively decent hour.

But: It wasn't all Mikey's fault that the loan stuff got fucked up. Never let it be said I don't admit when I'm wrong. I was wrong. There. He is still, however, a selfish little git sometimes.

AND!!! I wrote a note to work today saying that i had to finish by the 26th September! I gave in notice! *pauses to dance to her music* That said, I've not heard back about my accommodation yet, which is kinda worrying. Will try to remember to call them tomorrow, then on Wednesday I'm off there to visit. Apparently Sunderland has worked hard on regenerating itself in recent years (it had the heart ripped out of it in the last few decades with the collapse/decline of shipbuilding and the other local industries) so I'm looking forward to it.

I miss my friends. I want to be with Natasha and Rachel and John sitting outside the Venue in sub-Artic temperatures with an Iced Tea (Yes, that's the sort of thing I do. No wonder I spent all autumn/winter mostly ill). I can't wait to pass my bloody driving test- I already pulled some Sunderland driving school numbers off the computers at work (You think I call Directory Enquiries? I just wait till I get to work!) so I can be ready to start lessons again once I'm there. Then, I can get my mummy's car and drive everywhere. First stop, Lancaster. Then I'll get the ferry to Ireland *finally* and drive all around. First Dublin, then down to Cork for Blarney Castle (Not that I, of all people, need the gift of the gab) and then back up and along to Galway and some of my destiny. Then once I've done that, I'll drive randomly to places, anywhere, and see how long it takes to get lost. Then I'll get the Eurostar to Paris and find Jim. Then... the world. After seeing some of Monte Carlo or Bust! on Saturday I've got this sudden, deep desire to race across Europe. Mind you, I felt much the same thing after seeing Cannonball Run 2, but that was more to do with racing across America with Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr.

Am now just babbling randomly. Will leave. So long. Love you all

More about not-so-Mental Mickey.

OK, I have a small retraction to make: It wasn'tentirely Michael's fault that his loan forms got fecked up. The County Council have clearly been fucking it all about- they tried to tell my mother this morning that they sent it all back to her in May... She calmly informed them that they must've been bloody psychic because the form wasn't sent to them until June. Then she's talking to some bird at work whose daughter is going this year too and who hadn't got the forms back- she didn't even know when a lot of it had to be done by because she's not had any kids go to university before.

That said, had my imbecilic little fool been paying attention to his life he would've noticed. He might not get the first instalment of his loan on time because he's not sent the stuff in a month before starting (only someone who knows someone who's had to do it before would really know small details like this) but he's got the bits of paper that will get him enrolled, which are important. Git-face was in a better mood today, and as you can see, I'm on the computer at a relatively decent hour.

But: It wasn't all Mikey's fault that the loan stuff got fucked up. Never let it be said I don't admit when I'm wrong. I was wrong. There. He is still, however, a selfish little git sometimes.

AND!!! I wrote a note to work today saying that i had to finish by the 26th September! I gave in notice! *pauses to dance to her music* That said, I've not heard back about my accommodation yet, which is kinda worrying. Will try to remember to call them tomorrow, then on Wednesday I'm off there to visit. Apparently Sunderland has worked hard on regenerating itself in recent years (it had the heart ripped out of it in the last few decades with the collapse/decline of shipbuilding and the other local industries) so I'm looking forward to it.

I miss my friends. I want to be with Natasha and Rachel and John sitting outside the Venue in sub-Artic temperatures with an Iced Tea (Yes, that's the sort of thing I do. No wonder I spent all autumn/winter mostly ill). I can't wait to pass my bloody driving test- I already pulled some Sunderland driving school numbers off the computers at work (You think I call Directory Enquiries? I just wait till I get to work!) so I can be ready to start lessons again once I'm there. Then, I can get my mummy's car and drive everywhere. First stop, Lancaster. Then I'll get the ferry to Ireland *finally* and drive all around. First Dublin, then down to Cork for Blarney Castle (Not that I, of all people, need the gift of the gab) and then back up and along to Galway and some of my destiny. Then once I've done that, I'll drive randomly to places, anywhere, and see how long it takes to get lost. Then I'll get the Eurostar to Paris and find Jim. Then... the world. After seeing some of Monte Carlo or Bust! on Saturday I've got this sudden, deep desire to race across Europe. Mind you, I felt much the same thing after seeing Cannonball Run 2, but that was more to do with racing across America with Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr.

Am now just babbling randomly. Will leave. So long. Love you all

Dreams of Roger Daltrey.

I don't want to spam your friendslists (OK, that's a smidge of a lie) but I just had the weirdest moment... Let me explain.

This morning after I fell back to sleep (was woken early to sign some form thing. Woke up enough to make sure it was my mum giving me stuff to sign and not Satan, but other than that, have no idea...) I had the weirdest dream. I was at a tribute concert (not sure for who) and Roger Daltrey was there and we sang a duet of 'These Are The Days of Our Lives' by Queen, which leads me to suspect my subconscious dredged up my viewing of the Freddie concert the other week. (we had lovely harmonics going on, an' all). Or I'm having dream visions of the future.

This was cool enough- I like being visited by rock gods in my dreams, even if said rock god is a former Mod, but tonight during my usual 2am viewing of VH1 Classic, the bit from the concert of George Michael and Lisa Stansfield singing that very song was wedged between some shite by A-Ha and some other shite by U2 or something. How weird is that? If that video had been on a bunch of times, I wouldn't be surprised- Immigrant Song and Touch Me are often on, but I don't remember ever seeing this particular video on there- certainly not recently.

This all makes me more confident that I'm clearly psychic. Or mad. I am slightly worried now though- whose concert was it? If I was singing a Queen song, maybe it was another Freddie thing, but why so, and if not him, who? I don't want to go to sleep now for fear that I'll wake up and someone I love/idolise/worship will have died.

Once again, while chaos threatens other parts of the world in the form of a thing called Isobel, I'm worried about a stupid bloody dream I had.

Although: I still find it positively heartrending that the last words Freddie gave us on screen were "I still love you." The feeling, my darling Freddie, is always mutual.

Dreams of Roger Daltrey.

I don't want to spam your friendslists (OK, that's a smidge of a lie) but I just had the weirdest moment... Let me explain.

This morning after I fell back to sleep (was woken early to sign some form thing. Woke up enough to make sure it was my mum giving me stuff to sign and not Satan, but other than that, have no idea...) I had the weirdest dream. I was at a tribute concert (not sure for who) and Roger Daltrey was there and we sang a duet of 'These Are The Days of Our Lives' by Queen, which leads me to suspect my subconscious dredged up my viewing of the Freddie concert the other week. (we had lovely harmonics going on, an' all). Or I'm having dream visions of the future.

This was cool enough- I like being visited by rock gods in my dreams, even if said rock god is a former Mod, but tonight during my usual 2am viewing of VH1 Classic, the bit from the concert of George Michael and Lisa Stansfield singing that very song was wedged between some shite by A-Ha and some other shite by U2 or something. How weird is that? If that video had been on a bunch of times, I wouldn't be surprised- Immigrant Song and Touch Me are often on, but I don't remember ever seeing this particular video on there- certainly not recently.

This all makes me more confident that I'm clearly psychic. Or mad. I am slightly worried now though- whose concert was it? If I was singing a Queen song, maybe it was another Freddie thing, but why so, and if not him, who? I don't want to go to sleep now for fear that I'll wake up and someone I love/idolise/worship will have died.

Once again, while chaos threatens other parts of the world in the form of a thing called Isobel, I'm worried about a stupid bloody dream I had.

Although: I still find it positively heartrending that the last words Freddie gave us on screen were "I still love you." The feeling, my darling Freddie, is always mutual.