This week has been a hideous mix of me moaning, complaining or tutting. If this week was an 80's movie it would be set to Journey's 'Don't stop believin' and it would contain a montage of me sitting on my bed with heaps of balled-up paper around me, and I would look to the camera and do a big comic shrug and make a pun about recycling.
On Sunday I bravely ventured into Westfield's shopping centre, which to be honest I didn't like. I was amazed to find Superdrug, a recognisable store in amongst acres of expensive shops that just sold either tights, organic food or phones. I really didn't like it, although the decorations were lovely. Me wandering through La Senza with my pals, looking slightly embarrassed will be set to Pat Benatar's Love is a Battlefield. After that, I met up with other pals and went to the movies, Easy Virtue, it was cute. The night ended with me lost, alone and freaked-out in Paddington. Not good.
It would then fade, with a quick burst of Duran Duran to me, fearfully trying to remember what GCSE'S I took for my post-grad application on Tuesday. I would keep adding up on my hand, going 'WHAT else, what else' before mumbling 'Oh yeah...GCSE Dance' and then the audience would whoop in mirth and I would put my head in my hands.
My beloved Blondie would then show me, on Wednesday, sitting in my classes rolling my eyes whilst my lecturer talks about seeing Boney M in concert, and neglects to talk about Jeannette Winterson. Although I would like to fit in The Rivers of Babylon, or Rasputin to my essay on gender issues, I fear it may not fit.
Then possibly Bowie's Fashion would show me trying to get ready for the dentist yesterday. I ended up wearing what American's would call 'sweats'. I moaned my way into the reception, sat with wide-eyed fear and nearly cried when the dentist said no fillings. Sweet Tooth: 1 Dentist: 0
Yesterday I went to see my pal, taking Forgetting Sarah Marshall with me. I ended up on a packed bus full of kids, one shouting 'Amanda, you are a proper c-' for about 50 minutes. This sequence, in my movie I am tentatively titling 'No men and a sort of lady' will be set to Madonna's papa don't preach, I think the background would sound good interspersed with shots of me on the bus, looking gorgeously stressed.
I have curls. This makes me beyond thrilled. I am giddy.
Westfields went all out.
My lecture notes - I found a sports-type bit of paper and decided to make it pretty.