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lady_t_220I'm cold, I'm hungry, my metabolic rate is right through the floor so my mood is crap and I don't want to go to work tomorrow cause I'm covering Rachel as well as doing my own shift.
*sighs* Double the work... and Lesley's not in till gone 10 tomorrow either so I get to do 3 people's jobs instead of just mine :D
behold my joy.
I'll be fine when I get there, of course I will, it's just working up the enthusiasm to actually want to get out of bed and start the car.
What else... oh, I found out why Char wanted new trousers anyway. She bought a top from The Closet (freakygothshop) and needed trousers to go with it because apparently the next time Rachie comes down she's taking us both to some rock/metal/goth-ish nightclub she likes.
1: First I've heard about it, nice of her to warn me there... :/
2: She's mentioned it before once or twice and I already told her I can't really afford to go even if I wanted to
3: I genuinely don't want to go, which is a concept beyond her grasp apparently because saying "I don't want to go, I don't like nightclubs and I refuse to dance" is usually greeted with a "But whyyyyyyyyy? You'll enjoy it when you get drunk!"
*facepalm*
I don't believe that getting drunk should be a prerequisite for having fun. As an option during the fun-having then woo, yeah, cool, fantastic, great... as a vital necessity... no thanks.
Charlie only agreed to go because of the possibility of getting a snog from a cute goth/metal/skater boy. I hate to be the cold slap of reality but it's probably not going to happen for her. I'm not even entirely certain I'd want it to happen for me, at least not from random goth/metal/skater boy.
And therein lies the whole crux of the problem. The one central thing that I keep coming back to that neither of them seem to grasp.
I don't like boys.
I don't like them now, I never liked them before, I probably will never like them. I like men, and damn me but there is such a big difference. -_-
But it's a difference they don't seem to understand, and I feel like I'm pretty much going nowhere even attempting to explain where the differences lie. Though in truth even I'm not sure exactly what seems to seperate the breed, but there must be something in it.
*sighs*
So Charlie begged me to come with her, mostly because she doesn't want to be left alone with a seriously drunk Rachael (not that I blame her for that. Rachael turns into her mum when she's drunk and tends to shriek a lot) so I suppose I will go if I can afford it. Grin and bear and brood because it's not where I want to be, and generally be reminded of the gigantic suck that is the club scene so I can come home and clarify to the world at large exactly how much I hate it.
Then there will be a duly appointed moment of self-pity because no one will have paid me the blindest bit of attention all night and then hopefully we can all go back to our normally scheduled lives.
Bah, I say, and humbug. Then self-pity, I say, and general frustration because in the past 20 years attraction has only ever worked one way. If I like them I have an ice-cube's chance in hell and if they seem to like me then I wouldn't touch them with a fucking sharp stick.
Wow and at even only 20 years of age, bitter cynicism has already taken over...
*sighs* Double the work... and Lesley's not in till gone 10 tomorrow either so I get to do 3 people's jobs instead of just mine :D
behold my joy.
I'll be fine when I get there, of course I will, it's just working up the enthusiasm to actually want to get out of bed and start the car.
What else... oh, I found out why Char wanted new trousers anyway. She bought a top from The Closet (freakygothshop) and needed trousers to go with it because apparently the next time Rachie comes down she's taking us both to some rock/metal/goth-ish nightclub she likes.
1: First I've heard about it, nice of her to warn me there... :/
2: She's mentioned it before once or twice and I already told her I can't really afford to go even if I wanted to
3: I genuinely don't want to go, which is a concept beyond her grasp apparently because saying "I don't want to go, I don't like nightclubs and I refuse to dance" is usually greeted with a "But whyyyyyyyyy? You'll enjoy it when you get drunk!"
*facepalm*
I don't believe that getting drunk should be a prerequisite for having fun. As an option during the fun-having then woo, yeah, cool, fantastic, great... as a vital necessity... no thanks.
Charlie only agreed to go because of the possibility of getting a snog from a cute goth/metal/skater boy. I hate to be the cold slap of reality but it's probably not going to happen for her. I'm not even entirely certain I'd want it to happen for me, at least not from random goth/metal/skater boy.
And therein lies the whole crux of the problem. The one central thing that I keep coming back to that neither of them seem to grasp.
I don't like boys.
I don't like them now, I never liked them before, I probably will never like them. I like men, and damn me but there is such a big difference. -_-
But it's a difference they don't seem to understand, and I feel like I'm pretty much going nowhere even attempting to explain where the differences lie. Though in truth even I'm not sure exactly what seems to seperate the breed, but there must be something in it.
*sighs*
So Charlie begged me to come with her, mostly because she doesn't want to be left alone with a seriously drunk Rachael (not that I blame her for that. Rachael turns into her mum when she's drunk and tends to shriek a lot) so I suppose I will go if I can afford it. Grin and bear and brood because it's not where I want to be, and generally be reminded of the gigantic suck that is the club scene so I can come home and clarify to the world at large exactly how much I hate it.
Then there will be a duly appointed moment of self-pity because no one will have paid me the blindest bit of attention all night and then hopefully we can all go back to our normally scheduled lives.
Bah, I say, and humbug. Then self-pity, I say, and general frustration because in the past 20 years attraction has only ever worked one way. If I like them I have an ice-cube's chance in hell and if they seem to like me then I wouldn't touch them with a fucking sharp stick.
Wow and at even only 20 years of age, bitter cynicism has already taken over...
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Date: 2003-02-19 07:18 am (UTC)I don't like them now, I never liked them before, I probably will never like them. I like men, and damn me but there is such a big difference. -_-
And that was a problem I had when I was younger--most of the boys around me were *boys*. And the ones who weren't, well they were off limits for legal reasons *g*. Even when I was a kid, my crushes were on Clint Eastwood and Harrison Ford--grown-ups. I didn't have much teenybopper lust. I didn't find them appealing.
Re:
Date: 2003-02-19 07:24 am (UTC)The odd momentary "oh, he's quite nice..." but no serious crushage.