Driving home on Wednesday night after work was just like a normal drive home. I was just about to pull onto the Western Ring Road, had my tunes pumping - I think it was Janet Jackson Rock With U - and heard this weird sound coming from behind me. I turned back, thinking that it was a truck that was riding my arse, like they always do on the roads, but I was wrong.
The sound got louder, and I started to lose control of the steering, so I did what any sensible driver would do, kept driving. Now honestly if you believe that I'm very disappointed at your current views of me! The first thing I did was pull over. Switched on my hazards, and put Janet on pause. Got out of my car, and noticed that my back tyre was smoking, not a good sign. It had blown, so I wasn't a happy chappy.
I then had to sort through my boot to get my spare out, and the jack thing. After a couple of frantic phone calls to the folks, getting a quick refresher in tyre changing, I was right. Had a little trouble loosing the bolts, but thats mainly because I'm weak and have little upper body strength. But after a while, and some helpful hints from mum, it was done.
Now I would have been fine with changing the tyre under normal circumstances, but no, someone out there obviously hates me. It was pouring down, trucks were flying past spraying water all over me, and I was kneeling on the side of a highway. I was also in my adorable work uniform, so the first thing I did was change out of that, seeing I didn't want it to get permanent black marks on it. So I was standing in the rain for about 15 minutes, in a bright yellow singlet and black pants. At least people would have been able to see me. I later found a shirt in my car, and quickly put that on, so I wasn't going to die of pneumonia.
It also crossed my mind what would happen if someone had of pulled over to help. Would my knight in shining armor come to my rescue? Fix my car and then whisk me away in his car to his mansion and then go on a tour around the world in his private yet. Clearly that didn't happen, but a boy can still dream. I wouldn't if someone had of pulled over, would I have politely asked them to leave as I was right, even though clearly for the first fifteen minutes, I looked like a total goose trying to loosen the bolts. I still think I would have asked them to leave.
I think that changing the tyre was my way of proving to myself, that I was actual capable to doing something somewhat 'manly' by myself. So I'm glad I managed to accomplish my goal, even though it took a little bit longer than expected, but still it was raining and I was soaking wet, so give me some credit.
Chocolate is great. Chocolate is evil. I have many a great memories of chocolate, but I also have many bad memories about chocolate. With Easter just comes even more chocolate than you can imagine. My worst experience with chocolate probably came a couple of weeks ago though.
I had had a pretty big night out. It was my first night out in a while, and I had a bit to drink. I was my usual happy self. I had been dancing like a knob on stage, stumbling around the club looking for the people that I had rocked up with. A typical drunken adammac night.
When I got home, I thought that the best thing that I could do was get some chocolate and eat it before I fell asleep. Boy was I wrong.
I grabbed five chomp bars, my eyes were clearly bigger than my stomach. Went upstairs and jumped into bed. Only to fall asleep before even eating the first one. Now all of them were out of the wrappers as we currently have a 5 kilo bag of them at our house. Don't ask why, its better not to know...
As you can imagine, my body heat mixed with the heat of my room, made the chocolate melt. When I woke up in the morning, I was covered in chocolate as was my bedspread. Now I'm not usually one to complain about being covered in chocolate, but only when there is someone else there to lick it off. Sadly there was no one else here.
All that was there was my seedy hungover, waking up to find a mysterious brown substance all over my body and my sheets. You an only imagine the first thing I thought.
I'm not a victim of clichés
I don't believe in soul mates
Happy endings only one
I met you and all that changed
I had a taste and you're still sitting on the tip of my tongue
You were mine
Somewhere in time
I'll look for you first
In my next life
There's always one that gets away
The one that sneaks up on you that slips away
In a closed off corner of my heart
I'll always see your face
The one that got away
... are sometimes the only way to show emotion
Check out his account and see for yourself. He has done some for other artists as well!
Enjoy.
I'm sure that I've talked about how I've wanted to change the typical signals that drivers use on here, but I can't remember which post it was on. But there is really no need to try and do that anymore, seeing that no one uses signals anymore.
I see it as only polite to signal thanks when someone lets you merge into their lane. A simple acknowledgment would be nice. Just a little thing to say thanks. That never happens anymore, it seems the only signals that people know how to make, are the 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing' arm lifty up thing, and the traditional bird.
Its just a little thing that irritates me on my drive to work, so if you are on the road don't forget to signal a little sign of thanks, it will brighten up that persons day.
I used to think that I wasn't really a dreamer. I've always heard that its people with a huge imagination that always dream. I think in part that is true, but majority of dreams are based on something that has happened and putting a slight twist on it. When I was younger, I had such a great imagination, I could enter a whole other world instantly, and jump backwards and forwards. I remember stories that I would write about, and things that I would do which would help prepare to dream that night.
My imagination then helped me escape from everything. Not that there was really anything I needed to escape from. I think moving schools so early into prep made me feel isolated. I remember at the new school, when we were sitting on the floor, I would make a pretend moat around myself. Anyway, enough about my insecurities of a child, this post was supposed to be about my dreams.
It's pretty weird with the dreams I've had lately. They've all felt so real. When I've tried to recall them, I'm been able to do with ease. The freakiest dream I've had was where I got killed.
Like I said before, it all felt like it was real. Mainly because everything in this dream was real. It was my car that I was in. I had my current phone, my mum names was stored as it is now*. I recognised the car park as the one at highpoint. That could be the only thing that doesn't make it real. Seeing that I don't work at highpoint. But everything else was completely accurate.
I wonder what the next couple of nights will bring.
*Private joke between me and mum.