This may or may not work, so hey. I'm having a bit of a sucky day, and I feel like inflicting my suckiness upon others. However, I can't put my finger on what makes it suck, I think it might be my head, and my memory, and everything I think of. So that sort of makes it difficult to inflict it upon you, you'll just have to have sympathetic suckiness pains for me. Moving on... So Ken Chu survived his trip to Glasgow, and he's still posting regularly, and Matt Henderson and Ally Cooke and Stacey whatsherface all posting as well, and Ben Apps, and Lucy Alder... blimey. And Jay Eckard and David Hewitt, and it's all starting to make my head spin a bit. And even Michael "dance showdown winner" Grant, although if it were 2001, he'd probably be about 10 years old. It feels like 2001 again. Actually, it really does feel like 2001 again. I bumped into an old friend, from pre-anything-related-to-B&S days, at the Winchester, and he's now on my "I'm going to harrass you when I'm bored" list for emailing. We've been catching up a bit, although it's always hard to try and summarise a few years or so into one email. Although goodness knows I do try. So onto worst injuries. Hmm. Getting a broken collar bone was a pain in the neck (arf), particularly because I couldn't do a great deal with myself. I had to be assisted in and out of bed (don't get any ideas, it wasn't interesting) and assisted with washing my hair, and assisted with putting clothes on (I managed to wriggle out of my clothes myself, although it did take 45 minutes to do so, which isn't great when you need toilet). It took me a wee while to develop a knack of doing all these things myself. The thing I think I remember most about it, was that it was my first day in a new job, and they were really impressed with me. They'd already had a few temps come and go, and none of them stayed more than a day, and they hoped I'd return. As for irritating injuries. Well, there was the incident a few months ago, where in the rush to shut my door, I tripped over the bin, and landed on my chin, and ended up with the most incredible bruise afterwards. It took a wee while to calm down. I ended up walking round looking like someone had drawn me a goatee beard on my chin in permanent marker pen. Which isn't great when you've got lots of meetings to attend. "What happened to you?" "I tripped up over my bin". Or the time some bloke from some band called Belle and Sebastian threw a stick of rock into the audience (I think this wins my tweest injury ever) and it bashed me slap on the forehead, which left me with a bruise, which meant it hurt every time I smiled. So I learnt to scowl more. Except when I had my photo taken for graduation, the bruise had subsided, but the pain was still there. My gradutation photo now has me sort of with this fixed smile, the only type I could manage. In terms of inflicted, I think the only pain I've inflicted is - aside from immense boredom - heartbreak. Oh no, hang on. There was the time my brother was racing me, and because he was about to win, I tripped him up, and he walloped his nose on a doorstep. Which meant my parents took him to hospital to see if his nose was broken. There's all these photos of him at his third birthday (yes, I was that cruel) with a black eye which was what he got out of my meaness from tripping him up. He doesn't know about that though, neither do my parents. They don't know it was me. Mind you, he only found out a few years ago, that a toy he thought was mine, was actually his first birthday present. I made him ask my permission before he could play with it. It wasn't that I was an unpleasant child, I just wanted to keep him firmly in his place. And I did incur a few bruises when protecting him in fights. I know, I can't win you over now I've confessed my guilt. But hey, what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger, and he's rather strong now, so, y'know... it all worked out. It's a shame though, because he was rather a cute wee toddler, with such a happy outlook on life, and he seemed to do everything I told him and looked up to me (perhaps because I was taller). All that has changed though. And with that, my confession, I can die and go to heaven. Can't I? Love idles xx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. 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