You can say thankyou better with cake
04.08.06, 4:14 pm
Currently casa Manchester, hence the update, and last night I went on MSN for the first time in about two months. I seriously need to get Internet very soon, if only so I can fritter away my day on DigitalSpy like I used to during exam time. My dad�s spent the morning playing with his high pressure water jet thing, which he reported was the only useful present my gran has ever bought him. Clearly doesn�t give a flying fuck about the national water shortage. It�s all part of the mass cleaning operation for the party tomorrow night, and I appear to have been assigned the role of waitress. Maybe I�ll just start drinking at lunchtime; everything�s bound to run more smoothly that way. Tonight we�re driving to Liverpool Airport to pick my sister up, despite the car being a bit broken in that you can�t find first gear or reverse. I�m sure it�ll be just fine.
Hope my sister doesn�t spend the rest of the night talking about her latest relationship faux pas. Except � shit, she�s going to be sharing my bed for the next couple of nights because Ciaran�s currently up filming for Shameless. Great, that means that if I don�t get the whole relationship spiel in front of the telly I�ll get it whilst I�m trying to go to sleep. Wonder if I could get away with rolling over and assuring her that I was still listening. And then she'll no doubt the spend the rest of the night talking in her sleep, after firstly making me have the side of the bed against the wall because she feels �claustrophobic�. Balls.
My dad has bought some Oust air freshener, and I now can�t walk past it without announcing to nobody in particular, �I can�t stand bad odours� in the same smarmy ad-woman voice. Sometimes I extend it to, �At last I�ve found something that really works� with a proper Southern accent on the �last� and everything. It�s becoming a bit of a compulsive problem. I also can�t watch the PI Helpline advert without telling my cat, �Unsure if you have a claim for compensation? Concerned about hidden charges? Now *finger point in his furry face* there is no need to worry!� He loves that shit. Nothing can beat singing along to the cringeworthy, �For a great price on used automobiles, it�s so quick at CarCraft!� ad though, which I often do with Linda back in ShefLand, and laughing at the stupid blonde woman in the middle of the ad who�s just too keen and loves CarCraft�s great offers just too much, and is clearly desperate for a raise to make up for the fact that people will now throw things at her in the street for evermore. And rightly so.
Just yawned and nearly slathered all over the keyboard. Thought I�d manage to curb that. I�m now going to dedicate a paragraph or two of this journal to my cat, because I love him a lot and he has helped me through many a life crisis just by heaving himself up onto the sofa, collapsing on my feet and purring loudly. Due to the lack of Internet (I always feel like a bit of a dick giving Internet a capital letter) I forgot to report on how he nearly died, but I�ll do it now. About a week ago my dad rang me in the evening to tell me that the cat bite he�d gotten whilst I was in Manchester last time had suddenly gone completely septic and horrible, and was seeping evil goop and looking generally revolting. And that he had booked him in for the vet that night, but that the cat had gone off yesterday morning and hadn�t been seen since, and that I should prepare for the fact that he�d probably gone off somewhere to die. It was one of the lesser fun phone conversations I�ve had, but then it was all fine because my dad texted me the next morning to tell me that he�d turned up again and was going to the vet�s that night.
Anyway, turns out the wound had gone all septic and various bits of tissue had died, and that it had gotten into the muscle underneath and was generally quite bad. I think if we hadn�t have got him in that night he�d have been a goner. He spent the night at the vet�s and had an operation the next day to clean it all out and stitch various things back together again, and is now currently lying on the sofa looking a bit like Dr Frankenstein�s Other Experiment. He�s got 7 stitches holding his side together, under which is a big bloody gash, and half of his fur�s been shaved off. He also has to wear a big funnel, which he�s not too impressed about and not too good with, and regularly walks into furniture. I should probably stop laughing at him whenever he does that; it�s not particularly sensitive. I also keep forgetting he�s wearing it, and last night stepped past him, caught the funnel with my foot and managed to knock him over. Anyway, he�s doing okay and gets his stitches out on Monday. The operation was pretty expensive, like �250 expensive, but it was worth it because my dad would�ve been completely gutted if he�d have died, and I�d have been beyond gutted. I know you�re not meant to have favourites, but he is my big softie furball.
No fascinating recent news. I�m really tired today despite getting nine hours sleep, and so keep drinking tea to compensate. Hospital appointment on Tuesday with Dr Neuro, which I�m kind�ve looking forward to in a really sad way. They say that no news is good news, but it�s total bollocks. I hope they don�t insist on taking my blood pressure again. Speaking of which, my dad keeps conveniently �forgetting� to ring and get his ECG results. He�s going to get continually hassled by me until he does, and as soon as my sister gets here I�ll get her in on the act too.
My dad watched Big Brother with me last night, despite claiming that he hates the program, and then managed four and a half minutes of Sugar Rush before hotfooting it out of the room. I wish he�d just ask me the question and get it over and done with.
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