A m e e l i c i o u s

Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging

Posted on May 21, 2009 by Amee in Mumblings, The Normal Stuff | 1 Comment

Alone, all aloney, on my owney
Saturday March 5th 11:00 a.m.
as the crow flies Grey skies, grey cluds, grey knickers. I can’t believe my knickers are grey, but it is typico of my life. My mutti put my white lacy knickers in the wash with Vati’s voluminous black shorts and now they are grey.
If there was a medal for craposity in the mutti department, she would win it hands down.
I am once again wandering lonely as a clud through this Vale of Tears.
I wish there was someone I could duff up but I have no one to blame. Except God, and although He is everywhere at once, He is also invisible. (Also, the last person who tried to duff God up was Satan, and he ended up standing on his head in poo with hot swords up his bum-oley.)
Hoooooorrrrn!!!

Jas, your spaceship has arrived. Please get in.
Saturday May 7th
Sun shining like a big yellow shining… er…warmey planet on fire thing. Yesssssssss!

10:05 a.m. I am quite literally not wandering lonely as a clud, in fact I am treading lightly in the Universe of the Very Nearly Quite Happy.

10:10 a.m. Something full of miraculosity has happened. My vati, world renowned fool and paid-up member of the Big Twit club, has for once in his entire life accidentally done something good. We are going to Hamburger-a-gogo land! Honestly.something good. We are going to Hamburger-a-gogo land! Honestly

Living in Fiasco land
Saturday June 18th 9:00 p.m.
I can’t believe I am once more on the rack of romance.
And also in the oven of luuurve.
And possibly on my way to the bakery of pain.
And maybe even going to stop along the way to get a little cak
e at the cake shop of agony.
Shut up, brain. Shut up.
Looking out of my bedroom window at the stars

9:01 p.m. It says in my Meditation for the Very Backwards book that it is soothing looking at the universe and stars and everything.
Ommmm.
Saturday July 16th 9:00 p.m.
Run away, run away!!!
Pant, pant, pant.
And double pants.
How in the name of God’s novelty undercrackers and matching toga have I ended up running along the streets at midnight?
I’ll tell you how. You wait ages for a Sex God to come along and then two come along at the same time. Where is the sense in that? If it is all part of Big G’s divine plan, all I can say is this, “Keep it simple, Big G, just give me one Sex God to eat at a time. And then if I am not full up I’ll have another one. Thank you. Regards to Baby Jesus.”
That is all I am saying. Inwardly, obviously, as I am nearly dead with trying to run in my high heel boots. I may have to lie down in a ditch in a minute.

The Sex God has landed… and, er, taken off again
Sunday July 18th My room 6:00 p.m.
Staring out of my bedroom window at other people having a nice life. Who would have thought things could be so unbelievably pooey? I’m only fourteen and my life is over because of the selfishosity of so-called grown-ups. I said to Mum, “You are ruining my life. Just because yours is practically over there is no reason to take it out on me.”
But as usual when I say something sensible and meaningful she just tutted and adjusted her bra like a Russian roulette player. (Or do I mean disco thrower? I don’t know and, what’s more, I don’t care.) If I counted up the number of times I’ve been tutted at… I could open a tutting shop. It’s just SO not fair… How can my parents take me away from my mates and make me go to New Zealand? Who goes to New Zealand?

La marche avec mystery
Sunday August 23rd My Bedroom Raining 10:00 a.m
Dad had Uncle Eddie round so naturally they had to come and nose around and see what I was up to. If Uncle Eddie (who is bald as a coot – too coots, in fact) says to me one more time, ‘Should bald heads be buttered?’ I may kill myself. He doesn’t seem to realise that I no longer wear romper-suits. I feel like yelling at him. ‘I am fourteen years old, Uncle Eddie! I am bursting with womanhood, I wear a bra! OK, it’s a bit on the loose side and does ride up round my neck if I run for the bus… but the womanly potential is there, you bald coot!’

Thursday October 21st 1:00 p.m.

Looking out of my bedroom window, counting my unblessings. Raining. A lot. It’s like living fully dressed in a pond.
And I am the prisoner of whatsit.
I have to stay in my room, pretending to have tummy lurgy, so that Dad will not know I am an ostracised leper banned from Stalag 14 (i.e. suspended from school). I’m not alone in my room, though, because my cat Angus is also under house arrest for his love romps with Naomi the Burmese sex kitten.

2:00pm They’ll be doing PE now.
I never thought the day would come when I would long to hear Miss Stamp (Sports Oberführer and part-time lesbian) say, “Right, girls, into your PE knickers!”
But it has.

She who laughs last laughs the laughingest
Sunday November 21st My bedroom
Midday as the crow flies Throwing it down
I’ve just seen a sparrow be quite literally washed off its perch on a tree. It should have had its umbrella up. But even if it had had its umbrella up it might have slipped on a bit of wet leaf and crashed into a passing squirrel. That is what life is like. Well it’s what my life is like.
Once more I am beyond the Valley of the Confused and treading lightly in the Universe of the Huge Red Bottom.
What is the matter with me? I love the Sex God and he is my only one and only, but try telling that to my lips. Dave the Laugh only has to say, “You owe me a snog,” and they start puckering up. Well, they can go out on their own in future.

Tags: book, confessions

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