Saturday, August 19

Hermit woe...

I'm feeling a bit cross with myself and guilty today.

Last night I was supposed to be attending a friend's Big Brother BBQ at 8pm. But by 8:15 I was still wearing my pyjamas and throwing homemade spaghetti bolognese down my throat. "At the end of the first half", I thought to myself, "I'll go to the party."

The first half ended. I was still wearing my pyjamas. I wore them through Eat Out Of Tin Cans (but I didn't watch it because Jimmy Carr's face gives me uncontrollable rage blackouts). The second half began. I was still wearing my pyjamas. I decided that the party obviously wasn't going to happen for me, so texted the hostess to try and explain my absence.

The best I could come up with was: 'Hi. Haven't got money for meat or booze and can't get lift in. Sorry. Xx'

Even reading that back to myself now I am squirming with shame. And I wrote it. Fucking terrible.

You see I really did want to go to this party, honest. I just couldn't be bothered to move, wash, put makeup on, do my hair, leave the house and talk to people. And I knew if I went I'd spend at least £5 on cigarettes and Lambrini, and I definitely cannot afford to lose £5 at the moment.

I watched the final and then went to bed with a cup of tea and read Mrs Dalloway. I was asleep by midnight.

I am dreading seeing all my friends next week, because they'll all tell me off for being lame. But I guess I could use the now tried and tested method of staying in and hiding and hoping everyone goes away and leaves me alone. Poverty has made me so antisocial.


Stephen Collins said...

Does your friend read this? If not that excuse will ring a little hollow i feel. Thank you and your dad for looking at my lil' ricky. Indeed you = good pal. x

Gem said...

No, I don't think my workmates even know what myspace is!

God, Sunday radio is dire.

Do Google searches and that...