razzmatazz (part III)

wednesday

i was put on my side to sleep when i was a baby, and i do the same now, so not sleeping on my tattoo was never really a problem. when i woke up however, there was a shaft of light beaming happily onto my back, so cue lots of swearing because you need to keep new tattoos out of the sun. probably a bit melodramatic, that. it was so pretty on the second day, all shiny and new and happy on my back. it said on loads of ‘tattoo aftercare’ websites that it would look disgusting the day after it was done, but it looked even nicer. still, i’d taken good care of it, washing it and putting the rescue cream on and stuff. i spent half the morning with my neck craned round, trying to look at it in the mirror.

but i also had other important stuff to go to. i’d made a hair appointment on the monday because my roots were looking dreadful, and i couldn’t bear waiting a few more days to get it done at home. lucy, amy, claire and charlotte had all had their hair done at a place called paul simon, so i went there. i was dying for a change of image. my hair was getting really long, way past my shoulders, feathered at the sides with a fringe. really boring, although claire and lucy loved it, because i can get mine really straight and sleek, and they can’t. i had lisa to do my hair, and i think she was second from the boss, because she seemed one of the older ones. we decided to do a half head (even though i usually have a full head) of highlights, and she said she’d try to match my colour as best she could. then she got to work with the foil. i told her about the events of the day before and she lifted her skirt to show me this crappy winnie the pooh tattoo that she’d got when she was fifteen, and she hated it. then a very pretty girl came and asked me if i’d got to the sinks so she could wash my hair, and she gave me a head massage with her beautifully soft and little sixteen year old fingers. heh heh. i can be a real lesbian perv sometimes. then lisa got to work with my specifications – i said it wanted more volume, more bounce, “and i want my fringe like hers” *pointing to the hairdresser in the corner*. she cut loads off. masses of it. she was very enthusiastic, as my hair was like a blank canvas. more layers! more more more more! then she dried it (badly, but only i can dry it straight) and cut more off. she incorporated my fringe into the rest of my hair, which made it look so much better. and i looked a real indie chick with a weird designer hairstyle. no longer did i look like my favourite album was a ministry of sound compilation, with a big shaggy side swept fringe and a layered front. i knew all my non-indie friends would hate it but i thought: good.

i paled when the till rang up £63 for two hours measley work.

the best compliment i got back at the house was ‘i like the colour.’ god, it had gone so blonde. although tony and lucy said they liked the cut. but! no time to stop. we (that being me, lucy, claire, the other lucy and jack) had to get ready for the halifax college midsummer cruise, which was basically us going on the york boat up and down the ouse all evening), which started at 7:30 that evening.

it was a bit of a mad dash, as the boat supposedly left the dock at 7:15, but we didn’t miss the boat (har har). we got one free drink so i got a red wine which tasted like petrol (probably was) and then we sat around for a bit, a little bored. but the dj started up. it was like being at somebody’s bad wedding, what with classics such as walking on sunshine and the abba megamix. we went on the top deck to escape but i was only wearing my little black dress and we were all frozzled. the three hours on the boat passed quickly enough (apart from the long periods where we seemed to pass sewage works. shudder), and then we went to the gallery, as the tickets we’d bought for the cruise (at a very reasonable £3.50) also gave us free entry into the club.

we had a nice time in there, for once. we decided to try and get into the v.i.p room by creating a sob story that jack and claire had got engaged, so when we pushed on the door to signal that we wanted to go in, the doors opened easily and we went in, the only ones there, and no-one said a word. *blush*. still, once everyone else saw it was a free for all, it became packed in ten minutes. boo. still, me and claire decided to celebrate and bought the teensiest bottle of moet and chandon champagne you had ever seen for £10. the other lucy seemed to get really pissed at this point, shouting extremely loudly that dave (the guy everyone wants to shag, as he is nice looking and is the captain of the swimming team and has an amazing body), supposedly ‘didn’t rise to the occasion’ when she pulled him the week before at the athletics’ union ball. it was good gossip to hear, but i thought it was a bit in bad taste because dave is a nice bloke and i expect half of halifax college heard her. plus, if it was him shouting out how crap the other lucy was in bed in the middle of a club everyone would think he was a real dickhead, so i don’t see why the shouldn’t apply to her.

however, the other lucy’s drunkenness was expressed in a nicer way after i went to the loo to check on my tattoo. i went to the big mirror in the girl’s toilets and apologised that i was going to ‘get a bit naked’ and lifted up my dress so i could see how it was doing. cue a small group of girls to gather round and coo and say how pretty is was, although the other lucy hollered ‘ooooh my god! you have the nicest bum. how come you don’t have any cellulite on your arse?’ now the other lucy is a size 8, so i wasn’t expecting her to have any on hers either, but apparently she has loads. she reckons it’s all the coffee that she drinks. i said that my mum has a very good bum, so it’s probably genetic that i get it off her. then we all went and danced for a bit and me in the main room and the indie room (yay) and we went home and i cooked lasagne and chips which i really regretted eating in the morning.

it may have been a dizzy night of boat cruises and champagne, but sitting with your bum in the sink at 3:30 in the morning splashing the tattoo on your back with cold water soon brings you back down to earth.

Log in to write a note

RYN: Thanks. But you meant “worst”, right?

On Six Feet Under last night a drunk guy on a boat-party fell off the boat and died. If I were on a boat-party, I’d worry about that kind of thing. Still, congrats for the new hairdo and the great ass. I have to say, I’m happier imagining the ass than the haircut, but, you know, different strokes for different folks.

RYN: You rarely listen to my “woman-bitching” for one reason, and one reason only: You’re a woman. It’s fair enough, I’d do the same if you slagged off men.

Thank you muchly for your notes. But I have one small teeny tiny question.. WHERE ARE YOUR ENTRIES? Updaaaaaaaaate. Please? xxx

RYN: Oooh, you’re in trouble, Sock! How dare you criticise my ‘film buff’ credentials! For one thing, independent cinema-goers are not film buffs, they are film snobs. A ‘buff’ watches all kinds. And I’ve seen many more obscure movies at the cinema than most, but since this is summer there’s not that much about. I watched City Of God on video the other week – that’s BRAZILIAN!

Come off it Leonhart, you watch a load of crap films which you pretend to view with disdain whilst secretly enjoying them. You’d never go to see a subtitled film because you wouldn’t be able to read the words quickly enough to keep up! Stick to nerdy teenage computer games old mate and leave serious films to the grown-ups ;o)

That wasn’t me above, but hahahahaa.

RYN: I am exceedingly happy! (I presume that it was a good thing?)

RYN: My parents aren’t rich, and i don’t drink in London every night of the week, and i do also work. Anyway. I tend to go to cheap pubs. No more expensive than anywhere else in the country.

October 9, 2003

I want a tattoo. And new hair. Humph.