An Adventuresome Weekend

Is what I have just finished having. I am quite sad it’s over, it was going well for a while there and the discovery of elderflower liqueur was a great one. The other great discovery was that there is a reason for the new series of Gladiators: it makes a fantastic drinking game. The rules were to drink when someone strikes a pose, says something cheesy or fails utterly. It was phenomenal.

I have not seen the Hulk movie that came out a few years back because I was busy inhaling paint thinner but did tag along with the gang to see this new one. I think you would get a similar experience if you went to see a cage fight while listening to a premium rate chat line. The movie is literally all fight/chase/fight scenes interspersed with moments of breathy dialoge from Liv Tyler who sounds like she’s been bricked in the face. As much as she sounded like a retard it also bugged me that soldiers were constantly moving her round calling her ‘miss’ when as daughter of the general they would all have known that her name was DR Ross. Nothing like respect in the army…

After the weekend’s overly full house (in which I was seventh in line for the throne, godsdamnit) we are now down to a more reasonable number, in exchange for a guest we have lost one of the housefolks who has run away to join the army. Whether he’ll come back in one piece or not is unknown – I’m not sure if he is adequately prepared for the rigours of the marines’ fitness test so I hope he doesn’t die. Before he left he played me a recording of a poem called ‘You can’t’ by someone who I think spells her name Salena Duggens. It’s a fantastic poem expressing distain for the widespread apathy infecting the nation. I loved it muchly but I don’t know where it came from and my very basic websearches have yielded nothing.

I am feeling poor at the moment. I must do things to improve my situation – all I’ve managed in the last year is to take about 700 off my overdraft which isn’t very much and it is almost the birthingsday of significant other and in order to make a fitting tribute I may have to dent that again. I hate to have to be concerned with money. The lowest point of my poverty when I was a student without loan money and hadn’t landed a summer job yet (which had to start in april I was that poor) was when I realised I had almost worn through the ass of my trousers and it was really cold (too cold for skirts, of which I had two) but couldn’t afford to buy new trousers, even primark trousers, because I had only just enough money for modest food. It sounds daft, oh no, no trousers for me today, I was hardly homeless or without support if I’d needed it, but the first time you look at your budget and think wow, I do kinda need this but if I got it I can’t have food, it really freaks you out and gives you a little taste of what it’s like to really be poor. Now I know I spend a little too much on what I like, particularly in the supermarket, because I hated the feeling of restriction. I could be creating savings but instead I am eating my money as a reassurance that I can afford that luxury. It’s probably time I got over that feeling, at least to make my use of food more efficient.

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