I used to keep a Diary way back when, 'till I my older brother got hold of it and read about my secret crush on some mate of his. I came home from school to find a shrine set up in my bedroom to said object of my affections. Needless to say that put an end to charting my feelings by means of the written word.

Fuck know's why I'm writing now, trying to get some order in my very cluttered head I guess. I used to like getting it on paper when I was a kid, I felt like I could stick it under the matress (reknowned stashing place for porn (boys) and diaries (girls)) and walk away leaving my problems there with it until I opened it up again. To be fourteen and clueless again...

A contributing fact might be the whole 'waking up in Hospital and being told you've been out for the count for the past seven days' thing. That was wierd, REALLY disconcerting. I felt like I'd had something stolen from me, kind of violated. Apart from the knock on the head, a mashed up face and a broken hand is all I have to show for what happened. I'm getting a bit paranoid about my nose, it's been broken twice in as many months now. I took the plaster off and it's still too swollen to tell if it's set straight, I might be needing the number of that plastic surgeon I bumped into a few weeks ago.

Fuckin' Red. Moonstruck bint. The worst bit is my hands, I can't do fuck all till teh right ones healed a bit. I had the customers pouriong their own drinks today, it was either that or use me teeth to unscrew the bottles. And if I can't pour a fuckin' pint, then there's no way I'm gunna be able to replace the brake lines on the truck anytime soon, I'll be relegated to passin' spanners to Nico while she does all the busy work.

I had to tell everyone I can't remember what happened, I don't want them getting messed up on my part. I'm actually getting a bit pissed off at them all declaring revenge on my assailant. I might not be up there, with Hathians hardest, but if I wanted revenge, I'd do it my FUCKING self. That said, I'm touched how many people have been worrying about me, while I was in the hospital.

Daisy was the hardest to lie to, she was so upset when she saw my face, more upset than *I* had been. She's the reason Red hadn't waited sooner to have a go at me. I'm still not even sure what it is I've done to deserve a coma inducing whack on the head, but I'm not exactly going to go looking for her to ask. I'm hoping it's over now, that she'll see I'm letting her off the hook and fuck off and leave me be.

Anyway.. to round up the day..

Val and I were hanging in the trailer watchin' some retarded American version of rugby, apparently called the "Superbowl"(?!). Been the big sports fan I am, I just sat and drank beer, asking the questions girl save up for when they have to endure sport. "How do they keep their socks up?" or "What teams the guy with the whistle on?". That, or announcing each players attractiveness as they do close ups.. "Oh he has a nice arse, don't you think?". Val wasn't too fussed though, and he managed to escape just as the second half began due to a sobbing Buffy on my door step.

Poor lass, seems this cop she was dating has been seeing some other floozy. I haven't seen him about town but I can't say I'm surpised. Sounds like he fits right in down the PD, or Teapot Division (as in as much use as a chocolate one) as I like to call them. Call them and say someone's been stabbed in your bar, it takes them a week to follow up the call (Despite being spitting distance from the station.). Serve beer to a few kids and suddenly the whole constabulary starts baying for yer blood. Gimme a fuckin' break.

Anyway, I digress. This scumbag is going to be picking splinters out of his sternum if he's not carefull, and if Buffy doesn't get to him first it sounds like her sorority sisters will make his life hell. Now I've been accused of having hippy values, and perhaps I do. But this cretin deserves everythin' comin' at him. Buffy is such a sweet girl when she's not trying to stake people, and he shouldn't take advanatge! Grrrrr.

B.