Sunday, 1 January 2012

My thought-train is being drunk-driven. Good luck interwebs.

When I ask some of my friends if they're OK, and they answer that they are despite me knowing that there's something different, I then ask "What's wrong with your face?" They've learnt to deal with me to an extent. One is planning on writing a user guide for me that potential boyfriends can read, but has told me that the first guy to handle me hiding under a desk needs to be married. I have accidentally managed to shock a guy that was widely believed to be unshockable - many had tried, and it was indeed seen as a challenge which I hadn't chosen to take up - by going for my go-to method for dealing with a crisis.

He was the station manager of the student radio station at the time, and one of the shows I presented was for local bands. One of the guys I had my eye on at the time was in a band along with one of my tutors, so I invited them on because it seemed like a non-ridiculous idea at the time. I started the show by greeting them with "Hello boys", at which point the friend that I'd brought along in case my brain turned into goo and I needed saving from myself began dying on my behalf, which I knew was happening despite her being stood behind me watching to see if I was going for the right buttons, which caused me to focus on the fact that I'd just quoted a Wonderbra advert at a hot guy and one of my lecturers, which caused me to say it again. I later asked them if they every worried that the audience wouldn't like them, got confused between the name of a band and the name of the song, and did something else which I seem to have suppressed but am not going to re-listen to the show to remember because I don't plan on dying of remembered shame so early on in the year.

I've considered sending this guy, and others where I've had a will it/won't it thing going on, a questionnaire to find out what I'm doing wrong. It would be qualitative, since there haven't been many guys who've ever expressed an interest in me who aren't certifiable/certified, so it could include interviews and case studies too. With this particular guy, the night he invited me back to his place after a night out I had an exam the next day, and felt it would be pushing it to stay out beyond 2am, then when I went out with him and his friends a week or so later for his birthday, towards the end of the night I discovered him snogging a girl up against a wall. I console myself with the fact that, whilst he was trying to gently caress her face, she kept grabbing his hands and sticking them on her arse. Who said you couldn't be romantic snogging scantily-clad strangers in nightclubs? I for one have heard many a romantic declaration of undying devotion from a gentleman in such venues, such as "This hard-on is just for you, babe." (I was 15 in an over-25s nightclub.) "I want to fill you with my seed." (That was stalker number 3 who wanted to knock me up to stop stalker number 2 from impregnating me with the anti-christ. True story.) and the time when, again at 15, a guy came up behind me & started kissing my neck whilst I made eyes at a guy I actually fancied, so I shooed him away, only to have him come back and beat up the guy I liked when he finally came over to make his move.

Back to the show with Hot Guy's band - Mark, the station manager, came in towards the end of the show to do some prep for one of his own shows. When the guys left, my friend turned to me and said "It wasn't that bad." to which Mark said "No, it was worse." I then collapsed on all fours and crawled towards the desk, which was between me & Mark. Causing Mark's face to have a fit, until he realised that I was going fetal under the desk and not crawling towards his legs/crotch. Perhaps he was worried because he had skanky underwear on/hadn't washed his man bits.

The other time I accidentally won the shock-Mark-challenge was when I shouted at him for fingering another presenter with poor hygiene before me - referring to his habit of sticking his finger in people's ears, which he hadn't done that evening but I hadn't seen him since he'd done it and I hadn't wanted to scald him for that behaviour at the station's AGM, so waited until we were in a crowded pub instead. It took him a while to work out what I was talking about and recover, and me even longer to work out what had been wrong with my statement to cause such a reaction. Although it wasn't just me. When the IT guy was having issues with one of the programmes, he came in to chat to me & my co-presenters during a song and he mentioned that he was having a problem, to which I asked "You can't get it up?". He started responding, but stopped, turned bright red, and left the room, when we simultaneously realised why my co-presenters were wetting themselves laughing.

Anyway, the point of the "What's wrong with your face?" part of this was; my friends have recently told me that I only say this when they're on their periods. Apparently if they're lying about being OK when not menstruating I use different, more normal phrases to push for information. And I never say it to guys. I'd love to know what was happening to Ruth's womb when, on one camp, I was helped back to my tent by the aforementioned IT guy, explained that I couldn't get one of my walking boots off with "The force is strong with this one.", fell into my tent, then when trying to tell Ruth (my tentmate) that I fancied Dom (the IT guy), shouted "Where is your face?" upon discovering the back of her head facing me. The fact that it had been the back of her head didn't occur to me until I reached a relatively sober stage the next day.

Although I am incredibly clumsy, am apparently prone to drinking like a fish (I've moved on from vodka & coke to a perry & flavoured shot concoction this evening), play a fairly dangerous sport, and pull men who are either as clumsy as me or who threaten to kill and/or rape me, I haven't yet had a visible injury on my head, touch wood. However I've decided that if I ever do cut my head open and need stitches, I want them to make it look like I grew a third eye but had to have it sewn up because seeing how everyone I knew and loved would die slowly drove me insane. I need to find out if they offer you a selection of colours for the thread so that I can make my choice well in advance and not have to decide whilst concussed. You need to be prepared for these things if you're going to convince the people who mark your essays that you've seen their deaths and need special consideration for the trauma the experience caused. ("Just wait until it happens. Then you'll know how horrible and gruesome it was to watch!") The only possible downside is, now I'm in my mid-twenties, I'm convinced a canyon is opening up on my forehead. What if instead of an insanity-causing third-eye, my injury just looks like a massive wrinkle cover-up gone wrong? The other potential problem with this is that when I got my finger stuck in a door as a teen and needed stitches, I screamed so much whenever the needle touched my skin that the doctor gave up and essentially duct-taped it instead. So perhaps I should hold off on visible head injuries for a bit longer.

This may be why when I started skipping on the walk into town with my sister this week, she pointed at me, screamed "Stranger danger!" and walked off in another direction. My grandfather even hides accessories of mine and my cousin's before inviting us over to the pub. Usually Christmas-themed accessories. Such as my Christmas lights with the battery pack I stick in my bra to make boob-powered lights. I say 'free-spirit', they say 'complete and utter embarrassment'.

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