Grace Notes @ Snarkattack

It wasn’t super-exciting, it was just…ace.

I guess probably because I didn’t spend it all sleeping as last week I slept a bit better than usual. Ah sweet relief.

Woke up nice and late on Sat, went to the local coffee shop with my neighbour/friend DS and Rob, found a cockroach in my purse and naturally freaked out - it crawled out of the notes sleeve just as I went to pay for my hazelnut hot chocolate (gustatory sex…wow. Had actual crushed hazelnuts in it, none of this additive syrup shit). Got home, faffed around, FD came around to wax his snowboard, as well as tell of his love woes (poor dear). Then DS, me and FD went to local burger joint, got burgers, went to a bar while waiting for said burgers, came back to mine to watch I Heart Huckabees. Drank nice homebrew, laughed our heads off and the night soon finished.

Sun I spent being pretty nappy and attempted to have Vegemite on toast (having been brought up in England, I’m convinced Marmite is better. I swear it’s beefier. Vegemite is too salty). Rang parents, got another lecture, father semi-bullied me into not coming over for dinner because apparently I wasn’t staying long enough. Hmm. This meant no dinner. It also means I have to visit my parents on Friday night and stay over (why do I have to stay over? I want to sleep in my own bed dammit, with my surrogate puss and soft toy Firefox…grrr).

However, a friend invited me over to his place, and I had the first roast dinner I’ve had in ages. Kind of nice to sit with a family that actually like to talk about…interesting things at the dinner table. Wouldn’t happen at my house, sigh. Then my friend and I watched Fight Club which I’ve not seen in ages.

Perhaps I’ll try telling my parents my psychoanalytic reading of Lord of the Rings and they’ll get so freaked out they won’t want me over unless my brother and his fiancee are there. Christ, we’re so fecking dysfunctional. But it’ll be better than visiting only to have one parent in the kitchen, one parent in one telly room, and myself in the other telly room wondering if I’m adopted. Does that sound like quality time? I think not.