Conscience voice and strap-ons
27.08.06, 12:17 pm

Still can�t believe that I got the job. Out of 50 applications they picked me, it�s just mental. Finally I can watch Jeremy Kyle and not feel depressed watching the careers tags either side of the ad breaks and all the smiley people who have fantastic jobs. Tip for anyone going for an interview � just make out that the potential job gives you an orgasm just thinking about it and you�ll be a winner.

I wish you could tell the voice in your head � conscience voice not scary schizo voice, to clarify - to just shut up. I mean, obviously you physically can tell it to shut up � I did about three times yesterday, out loud and quite loudly � but it never really listens. It bangs on regardless about the same old shit. I wish Conscience Voice would spend more time doing its job, i.e. advising me on right and wrong, rather than wittering on about things that I have no need to worry about. This whole paragraph is making me think of Jiminy Cricket. I wish I were Jiminy Cricket; all he had to do was swan around in an old top hat and tell Pinocchio off occasionally. Don�t think he ever got laid though. I can�t believe I�m still typing. Just shut up, Holly, and get on with what�s worrying you.

It�s stupid stuff really. Things like �What if I turn out to be really crap at my lab work and cock up all of my specimens?� and �What if the full-time person I have to work with hates me?� And then I have a whole nagging feeling of whether I should have gone for the full-time job instead. Because then I�d have more money coming in and would be able to buy things, like a telly that doesn�t belong in Lego Land and a Freeview box to watch Jeremy Kyle around the clock and other material crap. MONEY ISN�T EVERYTHING, HOLLY. Plus, I have ME (I know, I�m such a dark horse), and it doesn�t matter how much I try to ignore that fact, it�s still true. I�m ill, and therefore can�t physically do full-time work. If I did, I�d probably just make myself worse, and might then never get better. Not that I�m guaranteed to get better in the first place, but thinking about that is just depressing so we never do. So yeah, I can�t actually do full-time work, and need to accept the fact that life has to be watered down whilst I�m ill. So shut it, Conscience Voice.

Went to sleep Friday night to the sounds of Cocaine Nose throwing up upstairs, which was swiftly followed by a domestic (it is the weekend). Lots of �Get off me! No! No, get off me! GET OFF MEEEEEEEEEEEE!� with the meeeee actually screamed. For crying out loud, just get off of the moody old witch. Woke up the next morning to the sounds of him being sick again. Hope he hasn�t overdosed or anything.

Time to update everyone on my most recent domestic issues, because clearly you�re all fascinated. Me and Lisa had a half-argument about council tax the other night, which actually translated as me getting annoyed and not really wanting to talk to her for the rest of the evening. Basically, when we were planning on living together we talked about council tax and Lisa said that she�d half it with me. We had our first bill this week, and that night she basically said, �Hol, I�ve been doing some budgeting and I�m afraid that I just can�t afford to pay council tax.� Fantastic; I�ll just pick up the bill forever then! In some ways I see her point� I mean, she is a student, but at the same time she said she�d help me pay it and now isn�t going to bother. I managed to resist saying, �Well, if you didn�t keep pissing off on holiday so much you might be able to afford it� in return to her, �Is that okay?�, and exchanged it for, �Well, it�s gonna have to be, isn�t it?� More short answers followed. We got back to normal eventually, though I�m still a bit pissed off by it (less now that I have a job though), and I�m starting to worry that Lisa�s maybe one of those people who you�re best friends with but can�t actually live with. Hopefully once Linda starts work again and stops living here all the time it�ll get better.

Spent last night in the pubs up in Crookes with Em last night, who I haven�t seen in forever due to her buggering off on holiday. We ended up in The Punchbowl, which is the towniest of all townie pubs, only to discover that they now have bouncers on the door to keep all the townies out and that the place is pretty respectable inside. We then deemed it necessary to text everyone that we know telling them about the bouncers, because that�s actually how eventful our lives really are. A creepy 40 year-old tried to chat me up at the bar, so I pretended that I really wanted to watch the crappy Valencia match on the big screen and ran away. At the end of the night I then couldn�t be arsed to walk home down along unlit roads/fork out for a black cab, so Em let me stay at her house.

I love Em so much; she always cheers me up and makes me feel like major life crises are mere slip-ups. Plus, I finally got to talk about men for a good hour, which I don�t get to do at home with it being Lesbian Central. If you�re not talking about Angelina Jolie, The L Word or strap-ons, no one�s interested. And I could talk about the ME knowing that she understood all about it because she�s a medic. Once we got back to hers we sat up talking and eating toast and it was just like old times. She gave me a lift back to the flat this morning before heading off to work, and I got in just in time to watch The X Factor repeat. Bloody perfect evening/morning combination.

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