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.

2 comments:

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...

Google