\Te`di*os"i*ty\

I'm in an foul mood.

The open day on saturday was the biggest waste of time imaginable. I couldn't give a damn about prospective students. All they wanted to know about was finance, so where were student financial services? Apparently, they don't attend open days. Morons. Don't worry, student welfare will be happy to answer all your stupid questions! More to the point, sapped will! She's just the alcoholic that hates students, she won't mind! She will answer your questions without being on the verge of announcing that your utter stupidity invalidates your conditional offer and that you are to leave the premises immediately! In addition, the complimentary refreshments were shit.

I'm not convinced that turning up without having been to bed, still wobbling from the two bottles consumed the night before, was the best preparation I could've made for a welcoming event such as this.

Following this pointless waste of a lie in, I had my tongue pierced. Oh my darling, how I have missed thee! I first had it done this time 3 years ago and could only drool and slurp custard for a week. This time I am counteracting the swelling with a double dose of extra strong ibuprofen every 4 hours, and ice cream, and all is well. My tongue having healed rather well from the last time, I was able to have it done through the scar tissue, having been assured that all I would feel is "a little extra tugging". I don't care! Get that anasthetic away from me, get me on a table, get me clamped, get that bar in! No pain. Love it. Fantastic. High as a kite afterwards, despite not being able to talk (lots of squealing and muffled exclamations of "FOOKIN YESSS!"). Still get excited when I think about it. Put an injection near me and I'll punch you. Stick a large shiny thing through part of me and I'll want to do things to you. Especially if your name is Paul and you have sexy hair and a nice lip piercing and recognise me from coming in 2 years before. Hmm, what next what next...nose?

Sunday, I was depressed, and scratched myself a lot. I freaked out until about 1am. I know I have friends, those who sit with me, and those who call. But I still feel utterly alone, all the time.

Since last monday I have drank 51.5 units of alcohol. All white wine, bar one can of shockingly disgusting lager. This may not seem a lot to some people, but I wonder what my old dietician would make of this.

This morning I woke up as normal at 7am but I couldn't get up. 8am came and went, and I still couldn't get up. The blankets were heavy and everything seemed so daunting and overwhelming. 8.45am I rang work to explain an incident with an unreliable Spanish alarm clock (this is actually true, but happened last night when I borrowed it). I made it into work for 10am but not without a few more scratches on my wrist. When I arrived I was told I was going to be doing most of the student interviews from now on - 4 times the amount I currently do. I despise doing them. I don't want to speak to anyone for the rest of the day. I don't think I could physically care less about this job anymore.
 
If no-one comes to the pub with me tonight I'll go crazy.