My mood is: tired
I'm listening to: Snow Patrol
Well...this week has possibly been the busiest week of my life.
Monday was Paulene's funeral...which was extremely sad. As it stands, I really don't want to go into detail about it, but it was very fitting for her, and I still miss her loads.
I can't remember what happened on Tuesday and therefore possibly nothing important happened. Apart from the usual me sat in the refectory...OH NO, I had the first installment of my history exam. What a laugh that was. I wasn't laughing of course, but Rod was when my computer decided to break in the middle of saving. And I'm sure the examiner will be laughing when he reads my exam...I managed to repeat myself about one million times. Well done me.
Wednesday was another day of glorious sunshine, and after spending a copious amount of time in college, me and my other fringe decided to spend about 10 minutes exploring the field of Totton College.
Thursday...I had two hours of my history exam...and then...I finally finished Key Skills. About bloody time too. Now I am proficiant in...nothing to do with ICT so it was a complete waste of time, but it did used to give me free time on myspace.
And Friday. Oh, Friday. Nothing happened on Friday either...apart from me going out for a meal. It was nice.
But, Saturay was The Day. Now, those who I have spoken to recently, will be aware that I was going to be a bridesmaid for the first time (oooh losing your bridesmaid virginity, eh?). I was scared. Of many things. Falling over, dropping the bouquet, getting hideously drunk and telling everyone all my sordid secrets...Anyway, the day turned out to be rather fun.
I had my hair done at 9 in the morning. This event turned out to be a bit of a dissappointment. Not only was the salon nothing like the salon in Cutting It, the woman who did my hair made it turn out like something from the Flintstones. I am not joking. I said to her 'i usually have my hair textured and a bit spikey'...she made it turn out like I had attacked my own hair with my own razor (used only for shaving my legs) while playing frisbee on a bouncy castle and being both blind and drunk. I was not impressed. But me, being me, seemed unable to say that it looked terrible, so I waited until I had gotten home and had found my straighteners and hair glue and managed to fix it. Thank god for Rhonda, that's all I can say.
Then the make up artist arrived. The woman was scary. Now, I know, that if in certain situations I manage to kill conversation quite well...but she was the queen of it.
Me: Soooooooooooo...been a makeup artiste (said art-east) long?
Makeup: Yep.
Me: oh.
From the ubove conversation, I'm sure you're aware that perhaps conversation wasn't her forte. Well, neither was makeup...I ended up looking like Eastern Beauty Barbie, only without the Beauty part. I found the tissues and wiped off the scary scary pink lipstick.
After a lunch of more champagne and rolls (claudia loves bread) the other bridesmaids and I decided to get on our outfits. I am aware that I am quite small. Like everyone else, I would prefer to be smaller than I am, but beggers can't be choosers, and I guess if i do insist on eating 40 profiteroles and strawberries in one day, I wont be smaller than I am. But the woman who had fitted me seemed to think I was about 2" in waist. It fitted less than the skinny jeans that I tried on this week. How terrible! Nevertheless, it was too late to complain...I had a wedding to attend. So not breathing, I put on the skirt and the top. And before I knew it we were at Romsey Abbey with the beautiful bride (and I am not exaggerating for once when I say that V looked absolutely amazing). The service was lovely. If I ever get married, I demand that I have it at Romsey Abbey. It was actually like nothing else in the world (better start saving up now, eh?). I almost cried...because I'm one big emo, but I managed not to. I wasn't sure if Queen of the Conversation had used waterproof mascara on me. Then we had to wait for about 2 million hours in the cold while photographs were being taken before the other bridemaids and me went off in the car to where the reception was.
After a 6 year journey (we were in the oldest car ever I swear), we made it to Botley to be greeted with Pimms (yessssss) and more strawberries. Another 2 million hours of photographs ensued. The photographer was kerazee.
"Right, I want one of the bridesmaids."
We all looked at each other and put on our best smiles.
"No, not here." The photographer looked puzzled. "Over there." He pointed to a bush. What did he expect us to do? Sit on it? He led us through the bush, where a small tree stump was. "Right," he said, " I want the little one on there." Assuming he meant me, I stood infront of it. " Nooooo. ON IT."
I looked at him. "Um...no. Not in these shoes."
I got pushed until I was sat on it, my legs dangling like strawberry laces.
"BEAUUUUUUUTIFUL." The photographer cried. "STUNNNNNNING. YOU ARE STUNNNNNNNING." I wondered if he'd been at the Pimms too. The other two bridesmaids were wetting themselves with laughter.
And so, finally we went into the marquee for the reception where I had more wine, more champagne and more malibu. I also got cornered by a scary drunk, offering advice on acting. I was worried about the type of acting he was offering. As an actor myself, I am aware of the many different types of acting one does outside of the theatre. The acting I offer outside of drama lessons for example, consists of lot of physical, expressionist acting with very little dialogue but a LOT of projection (ha ha ha *smirks*). Not wanting him to copy my method of acting, I ran off to the safety of my grandma. Who had, by this time, barred me from going to the bar for the 5th time.
We also had lots of speeches. And a lot of "let's thank the bridesmaids!" resulting in everybody looking and grinning at me and the other two.
Then came the bit where V and R left. Tradition dictates that the next person to catch the bride's bouquet will be the next person to get married. And guess who caught it...that's right, Claudia. I was slightly drunk by that time though and I feel that I did had the unfair advantage of the length of my fingers. Ah, I'm not a great believer of superstitions anyway (apart from the good old 'SHOES UPON THE TABLE'). Romsey Abbey will have to wait a good few years yet. So you can put all your hats and frocks away.
By 11, I was just left with grams at a table. Everyone else seemed to be in a couple, married or too drunk to care. So I amused myself by dancing. It was an experience.
Oh well, the wedding was great. I have a feeling I wont be going to anything like that again.
Aside from that, nothing new has happened this week. Apart from me getting the new muse song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is the sexiest thing ever with that hawt grinding bass line oooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I also have half of the new snow patrol album (I shall be getting the other half this week). That gary lightbody seems to understand this love business quite well. Good on him.
Right I'm off to decide whether my arm will fit in the microwave.
Remember, never eat shredded wheat before bed time.
Till next time...
