Friday, 11 June 2010
Neuroticism, Spontanuity and Pyromania
An example of my slightly neurotic tendencies is once again paranoid anxiety about something I've bought to wear. I saw what I thought was a dress (it could be a dress, it could be a very long top. The lable didn't really help specify this) in Bournemouth, and it was really nice. It was only in a 6, though, and when I asked if they had more in the back, the manager said that they were expecting a delivery a few days later. I didn't get a chance to go back. It was non-existent on the website, until it was completely sold out in all sizes, so I just gave up on the idea. On Tuesday however, I found said dress in 10.
The dress is missing a button, which I can fix, and the sequins it has are threading out - but that doesn't do any harm to the overall appearance of the thing. I tried it on, and I liked it. I did. I still do. Sort of. It's a bit lower-cut though than I normally like - only by about a centimetre, but it makes quite a difference when you're a bit on the large side. Anyway. I kept trying it on with various other clothes - shorts, (it's longer than my shorts, so I guess that's good in that it's about the same length as my mini skirt, so I can at least be comfortable with its length) and it looks really nice with my 3/4 jeans underneath. It looks nice with no tights, nude tights and with black tights, although it does have a slight colour-shine-through issue that I'll have to fix with a cheap slip or something.
My only problem with it is the fitting around the neck. I've taken the tag out now, and I'm panicking that that was a silly idea. I am not sure, but I think the back of the neck is stretched a bit :( It might well shrink a bit in the wash, but it'll be ages before I try that out. Unless I do a special wash at home. And I'm a bit self-conscious about the neck line. It's a square scoop neckline, and it doesn't look as nice with a strap top on underneath, to cover that extra centimetre/centimetre-and-a-half. Ah well. It *is* nice. I just will have to find a way to feel comfortable with it, or wear it for specific occasions of extreme summer sun and/or summer parties. And make sure I wear the right sort of bra with it x) Bit like my evening dress. Typical.
I hate shopping. If I do find something I like, it doesn't fit me, or I think it doesn't suit me or I get it and then I wonder why the hell I did. In most circumstances I just take the item back, but this one I kept cause I had 28 days to return it. And for some reason I took the tag out before then. Silly me.
I was asked last minute to join my flatmate and her friends to their last ever visit to a club in Morecambe, the Carleton. I argued that I didn't have a ticket, but they didn't either, so I quickly got changed. (I've come to the decision I need a new outfit for going out in, as well as new day clothes.)
I had a great time. I mean, the club itself is a bit hit and miss with music and such, but I met up with another friend of mine there, and we had a right laugh. The music was quite football orientated though, at one point. It was really bizarre. It can be quite claustrophobic in the Carleton, but it's not so bad once you get used to it, or you're with people you actually know. Can feel a bit as though you're all packed together like sardines - I prefer the Sugarhouse for the space and music variety, but overall, the Carleton has its own feel to it as well, and doesn't use the smoke machines even a 1/5 as much, so that's a great improvement.
Going again next week in fancy dress - a load of history students are dressing up in a historical outfit. We're think 1920s or 1940s. Something we can grab cheap from the old show rooms in town.
Ok. Not exactly pyromania, but said friend and another did almost set fire to the bins around the designated BBQ area at the bottom of the green. We'd had the annual history society bbq, and it went really well - even with Kate getting the odd sausage or burger flame-grilled from a little too much flame exposure. Similar to the picture, actually -> [click for actual photo]
Afterwards, we were disposing of the rubbish and coals in the BBQ. Simon was having fun rolling the BBQ (it was on wheels, he didn't roll a disposable one like a square wheel :P) down the hill and almost made it to the coal basket, when he tipped it over. My other two friends had to put out the coals on the grass with bottles of water which they filled at the taps near by. Kate then put some coals remaining in the BBQ into what she thought was a BBQ bin. Well apart from it being a bin for disposable BBQs, some of the coals were still alight. So naturally, the bin started smoking and there was the lovely smell of burning plastic in the air. So we poured about a litre and a half of water into the bin. Good times. The remainder of the coals were put in the coal basket, and other evidence destroyed. It was fun, but I don't think I'll let those two be in charge of flammable things for a while.