Saturday & Sunday:
Sleep. Food. Shopping. Find a box set of Robbie the Reindeer in a bargain bin and watch all 3 in a row while swooning over the sound of Ardal O'Hanlon's sweet, sweet voice. More food. More sleep. God bless you, weekend.
Get up at 4:30 to start work in the coffee shop at 6:00. Less than 10 minutes into my shift, I accidentally punch myself in the face while trying to remove the cover from a display fridge.
Sit through a four hour editing class where we learn about something to do with editing. Yawn a lot from a combination of sleep deprivation and lack of enthusiasm for editing.
A mysterious absence of peak hour traffic means I make it home in 40 minutes less time than the Monday before. I count this as a win.
I forget it is bin night and, for the third week in a row, have to put the bins out while wearing my PJs.
Check for a bruise from the morning punch. No sign yet. I count this as another win.
Still no bruise. Morning class means I get to sleep in until 7:00. I realise how pathetic it is that I’m stoked about this.
It’s freaking freezing.
Go to my novel class and listen to people discuss books I haven’t read. This makes me hungry.
Quick trip to the supermarket for bread and milk results in the purchase of chips, biscuits, and several Kit Kats. I then try to unlock the wrong car in the car park. I learn not to park next to cars that look like mine.
Night ends with ice cream and a quality episode of QI.
The alarm goes off while I’m having a dream about Whoopi Goldberg and Julia Gillard auditioning for American Idol. They are wearing those white ABBA jumpsuits. After a disastrous audition, Whoopi pleads for a chance to perform solo. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see how it ended. I’m sure she did awesome.
Computer skills class finishes two and a half hours early after we learn how to insert a text box into a word document. This is still more interesting than the class where we learned how to copy and paste text. Now I can copy and paste like a mofo. Now I can copy and paste like a mofo. Now I can copy and paste like a mofo.
Get home and sit down to work on an assignment. I make a new playlist on my iPod instead.
I reach the conclusion that living alone is not for me when I consider how long it’s been since I’ve eaten a meal with a knife and fork.
Attempt to work on that assignment again. I write two lines then decide I deserve a three hour break.
Off to school for a night class, where the conversation revolves around Tony Abbott, buying transvestites on the internet, and elephants stealing your credit card to pay for hookers. There is also a brief mention of a monkey in bondage. This is the Australian education system at its best.
Sitting outside during break, I regret the decision not to wear a belt today. Icy wind meets my bum. A lot.
Another early morning shift at work, where I watch a coworker do an impression of the genie from Aladdin doing an impression of Jack Nicholson. This is some of the weirdest shit I’ve seen in a long time. A discussion of Disney films ensues, and I put forward my feelings that Cinderella didn’t make the most of those dress making mice. But let’s face it, she wasn’t very opportunistic. How many years did she spend cleaning for those skanks? Exactly.
I spend far too long in a discount bookshop because they have acquired some kind of magical Queen compilation CD, and I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to exit a building when Bohemian Rhapsody is playing. Or Fat Bottomed Girls. Or Don’t Stop Me Now.
Nothing else happens today. I consider smearing poo on the walls just so I’ll have something to write about, but everyone knows girls don’t poo.