*shakes head*
Seriously though, thanks to all of you for leaving your monikers in the navy blue slab of pithiness � it does appear that it works pretty well (although I don�t think there is capacity for notification of follow ups � sorry!).
Thanks again to lostasyou for dealing with my template for me � Im a twat at all that stuff and Kelly is far cleverer than she lets herself believe.
Little known facts about drinking:
Draw your own conclusion. If you cant, suffice it to say that it was the first time I have sneaked drinks into a club since 1984.
Actually, dear readers, that was LAST Friday, not the one just gone. I wrote that last bit all full of good intentions of updating and then it just all went a little bit by the wayside so here I am, doing it now, and its all just a weency bit out of date.
The club that I referred to up there was the swanky one (with the same name as an aeroplane, barefootruby), where I was doing an open mic night with L. It wasn�t very good, there were hardly any people there and it was in an unheated marquee which meant it was bloody freezing. L didn�t tell me until afterwards that their fee for the evening was the take on the door so they didn�t even make any money on it. If I�d have known that was how they were getting paid I would have invited all my mates along. He truly is an arse sometimes.
Had to go get some guitar strings in the afternoon and noticed an advert in the music shop window for �female vocalist � work waiting� so I scribbled down the phone number in case I got the nerve to ring up. Had a bit of a chat with the music shop guy, who is a mate of L�s, and then came home.
The actual Open Mic was a bit on the flat side, tbh. The music shop guy was there, and L�s mate M and a couple of their other cronies so they all took turns at hogging the mic while I froze whats left of my boobs off watching them and swigging outta my �special singer�s sports bottle�. Eventually it was my turn � L and I had been working on a couple of new songs so I was quite keen to hear how they sounded. Got halfway through the first number and looked up to see all the acts Id so patiently sat through earlier had fucked off to the bar and left me singing to about three people. Yeh, lads, thanks for that.
Had to have a bit of a chat with L when we got home as I had a massive crisis of confidence and wanted him to tell me honestly if my singing voice does actually repel audiences or whether his mates are just a bunch of rude twats. It appears they are just a bunch of rude twats, which was a relief�but still a bit disappointing, bearing in mind how much of my life Ive spent listening to them be self-indulgent and take ten minute solos and muck things up and blame the equipment etc etc etc. I�d been there for three hours by the time I got to sing and they couldn�t spare me 9 and a half minutes of their precious time. *shakes head*
On Saturday I sent a text to the guy who�d placed the ad in the music shop window.
On Sunday, he called me back and we had a bit for a chat about stuff we�d done and stuff we were doing in the future.
Back to work on Monday which just about killed me as there were loads of teachers out on a residential trip so I had tons of cover to do. I taught six lessons (mostly Geography, if I remember right, which was all about igneous rocks and coastal formations and was just about as tedious as it could get) and was ready for a really big lie down by the time I got home which was a pity as we�d arranged to go to another Open Mic night (this time as guests) and had to go back out just about as soon as Id got in.
When we got there I realised that the guy Id been talking to on the phone had turned up with half his band to watch me sing. Hmmm. Pressure on, much?
Luckily we were on after a couple of young lads butchering some heavy rock tunes, so I was always going to sound half decent, tune-wise. Quietened the place down with �Over The Rainbow�, royally fucked up �Lady Is a Tramp� in a different key to the one we�d been doing it in before and had to stop halfway through and go into a comedy routine instead as it sounded so bloody awful. I think in those circumstances you have to just fess up and stop. So I did. But then I totally nailed �Runaway Train� and all was good again.
The comedy routine mostly consisted of me making fun of the fact that L and I are SO rock and roll that we were sharing one pair of reading glasses. I know. Comedy gold. You wish you were me right now, I know it.
L had a chat with the band guys outside, to make sure they weren�t murderers or something (cos, like, you can totally tell if someone�s a murderer by talking to them about jazz harmony) and I had a chat with them to make sure they aren�t twats (cos I can totally tell that, mostly by spending so much of my time with twats) and they don�t seem to be.
Next day they called me up and asked if Id like to go along and hear them play which made me feel a bit like I was auditioning them, rather than the other way around. They were kind of in awe of L a little bit (he IS a twat, but he totally does know what he�s talking about when it comes to guitaring and musicalness) which I think helped them overlook any patchiness in my performance.
Worked on Tuesday (6 lessons AND a tutorial! So much for �easing myself in�) and then went to the hospital on Wednesday morning to get the results from the second lot of surgery.
So, yeh. I don�t have cancer now. This meant that they sent me off to another department in the afternoon to talk to another consultant about scheduling the radiotherapy which should mean that I continue to �not have cancer� for quite a considerable time to come.
The consultant there had a look at the scars and stuff from the surgery and said �Oh! Its not nearly so bad as I thought�, which made me wonder what she was expecting to see. To me, it still looks like Ive been savaged by some kind of pervy shark, but she was clearly expecting me to take off my shirt and for half of my body to be a mangled twisted suppurating mass of ossified/putrid/decaying flesh. She looked proper disappointed that it wasn�t. Perhaps she has some kind of zombie thang going on.
She also said that I shouldn�t suffer too many effects from the radiotherapy, and used the phrase �E-NOOOOORRRR-MOUS bosoms� when describing the sort of people who DO have problems with it, which made me laugh quite a lot as consultants are generally a bit on the po-faced side and not much given to the sort of pronunciation quirks normally found in 8 year old boys.
Ive got to go back in on Thursday to get �measured up� for the radiotherapy, so they don�t accidentally frazzle my lungs and my heart and anything else that might be lurking about inside me when theyre firing their death ray using the radiotherapy machine. I start radiotherapy proper on 26th July. Right in the middle of the summer holidays. Bugger.
Last Thursday sucked a bit. I did my usual Catering class and the boys were a bit�ummm�challenging, as they hadn�t seen me for a few weeks. By the end of the lesson I was kind of glad to get shot of them as they�d tried my patience a bit and I went off to teach a Science lesson. Bugger me, if half of the same naughty boys (plus a few of their friends) turned up in that lesson too! Lasted about ten minutes before I lost my temper and had four of them removed from the lesson for: a) Refusing to stop texting and then wandering outside to take a phone call b) shouting �Fucking Hell� really loudly when asked to take his jacket off, c) hiding on the floor behind a big bench and then marching to the front of the class and putting the cd player on and d) saying �No� in a contemptuous way when asked �are you going to do any work today� and then throwing his book across the room, respectively.
*sigh*
The rest of the class were fairly amiable and we watched a DVD about �Indij�In-nijeo�Innijdeous tribes of Amazonia� (or words to that effect) while I regained my composure.
Off to English when the bell went�..and the same naughty boys turned up AGAIN! This time one of them really excelled himself. Halfway through the lesson an informant told me that, while I had been trying to wrest some literary devices from the mini-brain of his neighbour, Mr OMIGOD WHY SHOULD I GET THE SACK FOR PUNCHING YOU? decided it would be fun to shine a bloody laser pen (that he�d stolen from the Science room earlier!) at my forehead like a sniper. When I asked him to hand it over, he either palmed it or threw it and held up his empty hands, swearing blind that he didn�t have it and smirking all over his smug little face. I threw him out anyway and one of the teachers from the room next door phoned the Emergency On Call service for me. Later he was sent by the Deputy Head to apologise to me but he was still smirking so I tore him a new one outside the staffroom, in front of a load of his mates. He�s quite a big boy. Nearly a man, really. Im sure in any other circumstances it would have been considered a fair fight if I had smacked that damn smirk off his face with my fist of fury. Or just any kind of fist.
Look, Im mindful that Ive been banging on for 5 pages or so now and that tomorrow not only do I have to do most bloody and damnable battle with my Year 9 ASDAN CoPE class (go ahead and click that link � I didn�t know what it was either til I started doing this job), but there is also the small matter of rehearsing with what may well possibly maybe be MY. NEW. BAND! Yes! Be astonished! I have been exchanging emails with the band guy since last week and they seem to kind of like me and all that! I need to spend the whole day NOT shouting tomorrow (which might be tricky, considering the aforementioned Year 9s) to save my voice for singing and Ive been told to �bring my book�, which might be tricky as I don�t have a book. I am old skool when it comes to singing and I LEARN THE FUCKING WORDS, rather than standing up there with a ring binder on a music stand, reading them off like a twat. Not sure how Im going to get around that one, but I�ll think of something.
Apologies for the mega entry � there�s loads more to tell you, too. I�ll have to save it for next time. Meanwhile�.
I nicked this from fifidellabon and I laugh every single time I watch it:
Oh, and I nicked this from somebody, but I cant remember who. Thanks! Whoever you were�
The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repending Believers) | Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | High |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Low |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Low |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Moderate |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Low |
| Level 8 - The Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Low |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Low |