What a day, what a freaking day. The culmination of a month of work preparing for this big fuck-off campaign and because it was so busy at work in the last few days I just leaned heavily into my instincts (to eat things with a lot of butter) (to listen to the Mamma Mia soundtrack) (to have a scowly bad attitude and wave my hands about to indicate my stress levels).
Now I’m home. It’s 6:30pm. I have no blog ideas and I asked on Facebook and everyone had such WONDERFUL suggestions, but it feels like those ideas all require me to put in a modicum of effort and I don’t have it.
“Oh, so you think people will be more interested in a live blog of your Friday night where you’re going to do almost nothing?”
“No, Kate, they won’t be interested at all. But it’s Blogtober, I’m writing one of these things every day come hell or high water, and this is a high water pool of EMOTION and EXHAUSTION, and it is what it is.”
“Are we talking to ourselves?”
“Yes. What shall we watch?”
To set the scene I should note that I am already in my pyjamas. I am sitting in front of my beautiful television, the television I treated myself to this year, it’s big and I spent an extra $50 to get the model that has a Netflix button on the remote.
I also have a laptop, iPhone and iPad on the couch next to me. Four screens. I’m spoiled for choice and need none of them. It’s absurd.
As well as my screens, I have a cold Mountain Goat Steam Ale, which is my favourite ever beer. When it’s on tap in bars I squeal or squeak or clap my hands together. I didn’t even know I was doing this until a date pointed it out. Like I have too much trapped air and it’s gonna come out as high pitched noises or farts.
Despite eating things with butter for most of the day I am definitely going to order a pizza later.
So I listened to Richard E Grant on Marc Maron’s podcast today and was utterly charmed, and it made me realise I’ve probably been basically in love with Richard E. Grant since the 1990s. So I googled it to be like, oh, maybe I can just go marry Richard E. Grant, you know, as a life plan; but it turns out he’s already married, since 1986. Plus, he’s very famous and lives in another country and he’s 61, I guess, which are some other points against our potential union. Another life plan RUINED.
Another disappointment is that neither Stan nor Netflix have any of the High School Musicals. How is it that I am paying for two subscriptions a month and yet this house remains free from WILDCATS.
Choices have been made and I’ve put ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’ on. It is the opposite of High School Musical.
I’m also talking to a nice boy on Bumble. He’s 36, not sure when they go from nice boys to nice men. Maybe never. Maybe as long as society continues to infantalise women by calling us girls and encouraging us to be silly billies who can’t do anything without help he he, then I will just call men boys as a completely ineffective protest. Oooh, girl. She got her feminist sass on.
I’m so tired. Why am I watching this movie. WHEN DOES IT EVEN GET STARTED? It’s just lots of string music and Keanu Reeves with bad hair. I lie. EVERYONE has bad hair.
My flatmate Ally has come home. Gosh she’s nice, she offered to get me another beer then asked me to tell her about my day, which I did, in a lot of detail, using many swears and hand gestures. Now she’s talking about her day and I’m typing this blog out instead of focusing on her story properly. I’m such a narcissistic asshole. I should do a brand new blog that’s all about other people, where I am very selfless and we don’t do any navel-gazing at all. Yes! I should. Maybe another day.
This movie is STILL going, but it seems to have gotten a little more exciting. Is Gary Oldman sexy when he gets in that weird get up with the hair and the silly glasses? Surely not. He looks ridiculous. But. Well. Ok, maybe.
Old Mate Jeff’s messaging me about selfies, let’s go help him. Oh, poppet. He thinks Tinder has shadow banned him. What does this mean? He says that “the matches have dried up but the thirst hasn’t”. In the context of Gary Oldman trying to drink BLOOD from people right now this statement has a different vibe, but we can’t judge Jeff for this.
He’s quite convinced that Tinder isn’t showing his profile to anyone. So he’s going to shake up the system with some new selfies. He wanted some female opinion so he sent through seven pictures from different angles. Ally and I ummed and ahhed over the seven and decided on the last one, but he needs to take it again during the daytime, for the lighting.
However, I get the vibe he’s not interested in waiting until daylight. Just like Dracula! The parallels in my evening are eerie. I shall be locking the windows tonight lest a vampire float in and make his bride. Though maybe it’d be fun to be a vampire bride. Especially if I can dress like Sarah from the Labyrinth, who was not a vampire nor a bride, but it is the first and main thing I think about when I think about weddings.
Ally and I have been chatting. She just told me “I love hearing your little stories about how good you are to humans”. She’s so nice. I must be telling my stories wrong. I wish there was a way to see how other people see you. For the longest time I thought I had the best sense of humour in a very fun dry OBVIOUSLY sarcastic way, then two close friends in a row told me I was always so upset, and I was like, oh. What I think is hilarious is coming across extremely literal. Maybe I am just too good at acting. Maybe I should become a famous actress and then I’m one step closer to marrying Richard E. Grant. Who, by the way, showed up in this film!
Jeff messaged to say he has a match. Wonderful! Oooh and my pizza is here in five minutes. Somehow I have watched almost the entire film, there is only 15 minutes to go, I guess I’m just… watching this movie now? The whole thing? I don’t know how this happened. It’s 8:30pm. Where did two hours go?! Maybe next week I should actually do something. HAPPY FRIDAY.
Let's Get Milkshakes! 
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