It has been over a month since my last post and this is due to wackness in kittyland generally. nothing too dramatic i hasten to add, just a matter of adjustment.
Prepare for the longest post in history.
So lets start all the way back with my gay pirate themed leaving party. This was beyond fun and it certainly seemed to have impressed a few people that Graham Coxon played. Even though in all honesty it didn’t really start the night with gusto and party atmosphere. It also meant that this ‘secret’ gig hadn't been kept secret as there were more than a few non piratey types around. Luckily a lot of those left after the gig was over. I was desperate to jump on mr coxon and draw on an eyepatch and 'tashe but had the feeling it may not be appreciated.
Also not appreciated was my hilarious trick of swapping my eyeliner for a permanent marker on some people. To be fair it was only the ones who resisted joining in that I belted with the perma-ink. My mate Davo was by far and away the most gay looking pirate I have ever seen closely followed by moi et le fanny. My friends Tim and MoodyStu's snog was also monumental and I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout of people I never imagined would be gay or piratey. Fabulous.
So from this greatness came a few days packing, before my sister drove me and my stuff down in a big transit with Frank the cat sat in between us for almost 6 hours due to xmas traffic. But it was a good journey all in all. Our first stop was to family friend Supersue’s house to take my little furry child and hand him over. Oh fuck that was hard. Really really horrible. 6 years of me and Frank and I don’t really know how I’ll get used to it. Sue was a superstar as usual and had a key cut so I can visit him ‘whenever you like’. I can also go for sleepovers with him. To be honest I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather leave him with. He will be loved and spoilt and cherished. But he wont be with me and I am welling up now even writing about it. Damn me for being such a soppy cow. But Kitty has to have her cat.
Talking of the familial home, we arrived late on the Thursday night and so decided to leave unpacking until the next day. I had 3 glorious job agency interviews (ergh) in the morning so headed off to them. By the time I had returned my sister and my mum had been really lovely and unpacked all the boxes from the van for me. Bless. What my mum then decided to do was unpack what was in all the boxes. Not only did this mean I didn’t have a fucking clue where anything was, but it also meant I came home to find my vibrator and rather large half ounce bag of bored-in-devon-weed unpacked.
Oh joy. Added to this was the fact that Mum had done some washing for me. Which really is extremely nice. And I appreciate it. The only thing is that some things were special wash. Specifically my Personal Pirate Kitty Logo sweatshirt.
Cold wash only. Washed in hot wash. Almost entirely faded. BUT I do not want to be ungrateful. Returning home and having cupboards full of food and untold booze teamed with luxury electric blankets and a million digital tv channels is fabulous. I do already miss a few things about having my own place. Mainly being able to watch tv in bed. I kinda can now but can only get really terrible reception on 4 channels. Also smoking a doobie in bed. Oh my word I miss being able to do that especially as my body clock is all up the spout. It is sad to be 28 and hang out your parents window to have a smoke? Probably. Additionally my mum is doing what she does best and faffing over things, looking at me concernedly when she isnt going to make my toast in the morning or not do my washing. But to be honest this having to eat what is cooked and at the time they eat (around 6pm) is actually making me feel very out of synch also. I like eating what I fancy eating when I want to eat it and I certainly don’t eat before around 8 on Week nights usually. I also need to cook or I feel weird. I will of course cook for mum and mike but will have to make it at a time I don’t normally. But these are such minor things and I don’t want to sound ungrateful for they are housing me and feeding me and pickling me in sherry and g and ts. Its just time for adjusting.
Christmas passed with shocking speed and before I knew it I was safe and sound back in London staying at Paul’s flat on Camden Road looking after the ninja kitties and hanging out and in with the red heaed fox. It was ace. We went to the VIP lock in annual Trash party which was absolutely wonderful. last years was a real let down but this year it was full of the old faces who all admitted they hadnt been for about a year. My friend jeordee was djing on form and pulled some amazing ones out the bag. Cheesy 90s hits which thanks to the cd Bibbi made me have started to make a comeback on kitty's playlists.
he is spreading the 90s tack like a disease and its infectious damnit. I had the best night ever, well at least in a very long time indeed.
Anyway the day before nye Mr Symes was due back from devon late and was then leaving for barcelona at 6am so i stayed at laura's to keep out of his way. i got home at around 4pm excited about my night out ahead. until i tried to unlock the flat door. Paul had locked the lock i didn't have a key for. the full realisation spread across me like vomit and i banged my head on the door whist muttering 'cunt cunt cunt cunt'.
You see, hel had flown to barcelona for a couple of days, i had gone out the night before, not taking my cash card with me so i wouldnt spend too much money. I had 12p, the night before's clothes on, hadn't showered. inside the flat was my money, my doobie, my booze, my pretty outfit, my phone charger and everything. i tried to call paul's phone but it was dead. after crying for a bit i called up a few of paul's friends in case they had a spare key but no luck. When i spoke to Jodie he said 'right, i'll be there in an hour' and bless him he came, took me to dinner, bought me some makeup, took me home to shower, gave me clean pants and a tshirt and took me with him to a party in clapham. admittedly it wasnt what i had planned nor originally wanted to do, but me and him and robin had a fab night. it was at an art gallery which had been done up in Ed Wood goth style and they had djs and a band. we got drunk and danced loads and it was great fun.
I spent the day lounging around with jodie in duvets we ordered pizza and watched 3 or 4 films. paul got home at 1am that night so could finally be one with my belongings again. bless him he was so apologetic, i knew he didn't mean to do it.
i stayed in london until the 8th because after xmas in devon I was more than eager to flee Exeter, or Royston Vasey as Bibbi calls it, as I wouldn’t have work until the 9th and after xmas eve out on the town I wanted to get the fuck out of dodge. Maybe it was because it was a saturday this year. Maybe I was being sensitive due to the upheaval. God knows. But the main street was like a scene from the best (read: worst) of ibiza uncovered.
Chav townies being thrown into the back of riot vans outside ozzy pubs and slapper hos sat on the pavement with shiny man made fabric new look outfits on, legs spread, vomiting on one side of them whilst still clutching their bottle of bacardi breezer with the other. This was I stop to add, only 7.45pm. Anyway, this was all vaguely amusing until I started getting shouted at. ‘oi! you with the funny haircut! dyke!’ ‘what the fuck you doing here’ ‘who the fuck do you think you are with that get up’. My ‘get up’ consisted of black mostly but with blue tights which I think was the item that seemed to cause most offence.
I cried my eyes out when i left London to come back here. Half because i didnt want to be in Exeter and half because of rubbish timing of stuff and missing of persons. I managed to blag first class train travel back and got home exhausted. my mum and step dad spent some time asking me what the fuck i was doing here and did i realise how crap my life would be without my firends and how depressed i would get and how little i'd earn in comparision. so i cried some more and went to bed feeling like utter shit. the next morning i started my temp job out in the back of beyond. it was horrific and i was stuck there all week but with a new one to start on monday (in a portacabin, with a man who has serious body odour issues. oh joy).
Basically it was a father daughter run export company for tractor and jcb parts etc. i sat at my desk and was told not to move my chair around too much else i'd go through the celing. for under the carpet under my desk and there was a hole the size of a plate which went through to the next floor. the atmosphere was tense and I felt like we were treated like 12 year olds. I was even asked not to make a cup of tea because it was too close to lunchbreak. the father snapped at everyone in a wholly unnecessary manner. after 15 mins my screen blew up and the one it was replaced with looked like it was from 1986. the monitors were 12" and the system - windows NT. its unreal. we had to use an old school punch in punch out clock. one day the father called me a gypsy. fabulous. i turned up with some other temps on monday. i was the only one who came back. luckily the other temps, Julie and Carli, who had been there a few weeks had me in stitches nearly all day, i quite wanted to take them in my pocket to my portacabin job, but luckily its only a stone's throw away.
so after my first day with a face like a slapped arse i went home and got plied with gin by my mum and sat down to watch the news. 2 of the headlines - i shit you not - were about:
1) an 18 yr old who stole a tractor and the police chased him for 3 hours at 12mph. and
2) the badger who fights back - a story about a badger which has been taking on deer.
oh lord. i'm not in kansas anymore.
on a more upbeat note i have seen my new set for Suicide Girls and its amazing and the photographer is travelling down to Bristol (an hour from here) to take another with me which will be good as i enjoy working with her and she takes amazing photos.
Also Trabant are going on tour through feb/march in the UK. Viddi sent me their schedule and i am going to go hang out with them some more. and Viddi is coming to the Devonshire countryside. Wooooop!
More depressing news is my money situation is so dire i don't think i can go to Reykjavik in february when Goldie Lookin Chain are going as i wanted to but will have to wait until when i move which seems forever away. but i have to be sensible as money is the way to moving there. If I go in feb it will push my move back about 3 weeks....god how the fuck I am going to make it through my time here I don’t know. I have to get my london friends to come visit and keep thinking of the target.
So i am stuck in devon with fuck all to do except shite temp jobs and sit on my computer with wireless heaven like last night, when i via the joy of isight i witnessed Bibbi and Viddi taking apart the studio before KlinkBank finally dies. RIP. *heavy sigh*
so yeah. That's the long and not very short of it. and also why its taken so long to write, it needed a full story. It won't be left so long next time. There's not much to do except go visit my family who live in pretty places like this.
