WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!

A basic expression of my opinion this morning.
Decidedly over-excited and putting off doing a history essay plan to bring you excitable news.
Not that I'm excited.
MAY have SORT OF told, ahem, "Adam".
Not that this won't be a total and complete admission anyway, because he reads this wonderful expression of my innermost feelings in linguistic form.
GOD I'm a sap.
I went giggly and beetroot red.
Thank GAWD we were on FB, blog aficionados.  It was RIDICULOUS.  Not only was I in silly clothes (a giant men's tartan shirt in various shades of neon, chopped up pj bottoms in stupid green with teddy bears on them), but I was giggling like some kind of deranged loon, looked like I'd been sunburnt and kept burying my face in my pillow so that he couldn't see me giggling, despite the fact that he wasn't even there.
I embarrass myself, darling, I honestly do.  I get completely absurd.
Still being absurd.
Texting him and being absurd.
SOMEBODY STOP ME.
I am not a good representation of the female species, btw.
We don't all get stupidly giggly the minute anything remotely exciting happens. 
It's JUST ME acting like a teenage girl.
Not that I'm not a teenage girl.
But I liked to think I had more class than that.
Clearly not.
Think all the ideas of class went away when it was suggested we get a bit tipsy and shag each other.
Personally, I blame Mitchell.
This would NOT have happened if myself and "Adam" (Does feel stupid calling him that, by the by, but ya know. Don't start what you can't finish.) weren't discussing whether or not he would end up happy.
I'll be honest, that is a much more polite way than we were saying it, but it's not the point.
We had decided that he would probably end up the victim of a golddigger.
If I don't have to kill him for being a smarmy, up-himself ARSEWIT with no tact and very little going for him.
However, "Adam" (One of these days, I'll will just call him by his name.) suggested that, because of my little tolerance for alcohol (One bottle of Bud and I was tipsy, ladies and gents of the blog jury), that it would only take a pint of beer before I was pissed enough to, ahem, "bestow my womanly charms" on the little wanker.
Oh, how I laughed.
And then said something I really don't regret.
"If I can drink a beer without shagging you, I think I can drink one and have enough standards not to shag Mitch."
Whoops.
There was a fair bit of flirting after that.
Not that there wasn't before that.
And now, now whoever it is in the sky that controls all our actions, or perhaps just my body, is punishing me for being all happy and giggly and COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS, and I have a very big cold.  Sore throat, blocked up nose, the whole lot.
As a side note, I am sat in the library and a girl in awesome indigo coloured jeans has just come in. They are gorgeous.
But yes.  I'm sick.
Not fun.  I'm hoping the cold Chinese and the ridiculous cake we have made for Anna (whose birthday it is, but I'm not allowed to make a fuss apparently) will fix it.  Either that or I am going to have to go back to taking that bottle of teen vitamins again, and it's not the best taste.
I don't see why they don't make the gummy vitamins they do for kids, for teenagers.
It would be much easier to get them to take vitamins.
Because let's be fair, teens are not grown ups.  We do grown up things, like drive and sleep with one another and make life changing decisions about our education, but what we really want are gummy vitamins, umbrellas with cartoon characters on and pjs with feet.   Preferably with patterns.  Mine have a cow pattern on them, but where I'm out of proportion and my legs are short where my torso is long, I get a pretty damn uncomfortable crotch pretty damn quickly.   We want decent cartoons like Johnny Bravo and Wacky Races on the telly, not this crap about Ben and his aliens.
We also want big warm mugs of hot squash and a fleecy blanket and to curl up on the sofa and pretend like you understand the stance the Loose Women are taking on what that policeman said about rape.
We also want mac and cheese, and bedtime stories, and welly boots with frog faces, and we want to spin like lunatics on spinny desk chairs, and we want spaghetti hoops and Pringle sandwiches, we want birthday cakes shaped like caterpillars that don't taste like dust, and we want to be able to paint our nails all different colours  and not be judged as a loon.  We want to have sleepovers with midnight feasts and both girls AND boys and not have it assumed that it's going to become an orgy just because a few members of the group have cocks.  The blokes I would invite to my sleepovers are more feminine than some of the girls I know.  There is also a gay rights issue there, but that's for another blog.
We also want hats with faces, and clothes that don't cost £25 for a tshirt.  Ice cream cones, rainbow sugar in tubes, and to not have to worry about whether or not you're making a cock of yourself.  PERSONALLY, I want to climb a tree.
Scrolling up and down again, I have put "ridiculous" in capital letters far too many times.  Must stop. Getting RIDICULOUS.
Hehehehe.
Still texting "Adam", under the desk now.  Lots of not remotely covert chatting up.  Lots of only slightly more covert insinuations.
I have a history essay next lesson, cramp, a runny nose and a headache.
Well, as Churchill once said;
Keep Calm and Carry On Blogging.
So I shall.
It is always cold in the library.
It's probably more than a little to do with the fact that I like sitting in the corners, where the windows are.
My fingertips always get freezy cold and I have to stick them between my legs to get them all warm again.
Despite the fact that it is still September, and I didn't even bother bringing a coat this morning, my fingers are now getting to that stage again.
Perhaps if they SHUT THE DAMN WINDOWS such things wouldn't happen.
I am crocheting a shawl.  It is in the same colour as the wee purse I made for Katie, which I posted on Twitter and FB.  It is currently the length of my armspan, and about an inch thick.
I've been working on it for a couple days, but because it is so damn long, it takes me a whole episode of Don't Tell The Bride (Yummm, culture) to do one row, because I am also quite slow at crochet.
I HAVE only just started.
I want to try and finish it before Christmas, but I'm not sure I see that happening.  I can crochet the whole way up to Norwich and back down again next weekend, but even then I may not get very far.  Want it to be all the way down to my arse, so it will definitely be taking a while.  Can't decide if I want to make it a very big triangle, or start it off sort of rectangle and make it really really big.
I might put a button on it, but I will then have to go and get a button.  And I would want my button VERY VERY BIG.
I like big buttons, and I cannot lie. (You know I'm hilarious.)
Think I will leave the library about twenty minutes before lunch starts to do my essay plan.  SO not getting it done while there is the appealing of baring my soul before the internet and inviting the world into my precious little life.
AKA blogging.
Will have to go in about fifteen minutes more than likely.  I'll sign off in ten to check my emails and the like. 
I'm boring like that.
I'm exciting in lots of ways though.
Like how, when I piss off in a minute, I'm going to take a LOT of painkillers.
I'll spare you the details.
Really want one of the dissovable powder medicine drinks I have in my drawer at home.  Like Lemsip, but ASDA brand.
You have to add a shiteload of sugar though.
And I'd rather have it in the blackcurrant flavour than the horrendous lemon and honey we have.
Also want my pot of Vaporub from by my bed.  Normally clears my throat out fairly nicely.
Ewwww, sniffles.
The constant nose-wiping is removing my make-up, which I'm not really all that impressed by.
It took all of ten minutes to make me look this pale!!
I also have itchy elbow armpits.
That's what I call the inside of the elbows.
I don't think there is actually a technical word for that.
The technical word, according to Wiki, for elbow is articulatio cubiti, and the technical for armpit is axilla. Which leads me to believe that the technical term for it should REALLY by articulatio cubiti axilla, but I might just stick to calling it what it is in English. 
They're kicking gypsies off their campsites on the news again.
Wonder if it would get the same attention if it were non-travellors who were getting evicted from their homes.
Probably not.
Might get a cup of tea.  Could go for a cuppa with my cold Chinese lunch.
There is honestly nothing better than a portion of chow mein, coated in sweet and sour sauce and left to ferment.
Om. Nom.
Yeah, definitely want a cuppa.  Think I have a pound in my bag.
They will also give me free biscuits if I buy a large.  Cracking :D
Alright, horrible lot, I'm going to leave you alone now.  I need tea and I need lunch and I need an essay plan so Lawrence doesn't kill me, because I already like him better than Emma.  Mostly in teaching style.  Once you get past the slightly awkward, GCSE style of her teaching, she's actually a pretty nice person.  It's only a little bit of digging.
Buhbye darlings, have a good day :) XXXXXX