Why aren't I an alcoholic/useless bum? Then the government would pay my rent for me! Hurrah!

Okay, okay. Do not panic. Everything is going to be fine. You're a strong, confident woman who does not need to smoke. Heh, I do so love Friends flashbacks. Reminds me of how much I loved that show.

• Clothes packed [x]
• Pictures removed from walls and collected [x]
• Exorbitant amount of money raised and ready for deposit [x]
• Lesbian house parties planned and ready [x]
• Lesbian house parties admitted to be fanciful and deluded day-dream [x]
• Books packed []
• DVDs packed []
• Car cleaned []
• Computer equipment ready to dismantle at the very last minute [x]
• 41 piece deluxe kitchen set with wooden knife block bought, packed and ready to go [x]
• Food bought []

I'm doing okay. I have no food yet bags full of clothes; no money yet rent in advance and deposits and parking permits and bills waiting to be paid. I think I might cry. Or, at least, watch an episode of The L Word: Jenny bringing on the crazy always makes me feel a little bit better about myself. Is that wrong?

But now, I must flee. I have to go into town and sign the tenancy agreement and then go and beg the council for a parking permit so I actually have somewhere to park when I move in. Everywhere I turn, everyone wants my money! Which, in itself, is nothing new. But I do get very frustrated when I work a six and half day week like last week and yet people who do nothing get everything paid for them. Argh, but that is a rant for another day. I need to be a lot more focused about the whole issue before I go running my fat mouth off. Oh, who am kidding: GET A JOB YOU LAZY BUMS. PAY YOUR DAMN TAXES BECAUSE I'M SICK OF PAYING THEM FOR YOU!

Grrr. Rowr.

Meow?

"Do you find this too bouncy?"

Oh, how I wish it was anyone but my mother to utter those funny, funny words.

Although, in her own way, she is a comedy genius.

My mother took me bed shopping on Monday. It was, I have to say, a wonderful and frightening experience. Wonderful, because I will ever be thankful to have a mother who takes her daughter out and loans her money to buy a bed for her and her girlfriend when they have nary a bed (nor a pound) to speak of - frightening, because it involved me lying on beds in many a showroom while my mother lay on the other side uttering such phrases as: "Now, turn over! No, properly!I want to see what it feels like!" and "Hmm...I think this bed is a bit too bouncy for us..."

Once I figured out what she was doing, I have to say I was both strangely touched and a little relieved: she was making me do the bed dance in all the showrooms in the southern United Kingdom so that she could make sure GP wasn't going to be bounced out of bed everytime I fidgeted (I'm a huge bed fidget, I admit it). It's not like she was making me cuddle her, no: she would make me lie far on one side, with her on the other, and then note the amount of movement the bed recorded whilst I fidgeted like Lindsay Lohan waiting for another dose of love dust. I love that my mother gets so invested in her daughter's (daughter's?... I always forget what the rule is...does the ' go before the s or after?) welfare that she's willing not only to buy a bed, but to also test it to make sure that it's acceptable for both of the people who'll be sleeping in it. Please forgive my gushing...but after having sat through lectures about how homosexuality is second only to pedophilia in terms of wrongness from other family members...her willingness to help me out and provide for my partner made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I do love my mother.

When good girls go bad

Hey hey. The reason I started this blog was...well, because the option was there, I suppose. Why not, when the realm of internet expression is so free and ripe for the taking? However, I've never felt comfortable expressing myself in the impersonal realm of the blog, and now I discover that has not changed. So why, I hear you cry, start now? And didn't you want to create a blog full of pop-culture, snark and sarcasm? A blog that was totally removed from your life and your situation? So why bother when you know that you're useless at separating impersonal posts from your day to day life? Because...well, because I can. And because everyone deserves an 'because I can'. And because I thought it would help me to document my changing situation; to focus on the 'what can I blog?' as apposed to the question 'what can I freak out about because I feel so wonderfully unprepared for this?'

I'm moving away from home from the first time. I feel it's a little late in life, but hey, that's probably just me. In a world where 30 is the new 20, who can say what's late and what's not? (If you're wondering, check my profile for my age). Ah ha, but not only am I moving away from home (well, my father, at least) for the first time, I am moving in with my girlfriend, henceforth known as GP. She is a wonderful, caring individual, and I love the fact that we're going to be living together. I'm just worried. I worry. It's my thing. I don't like to admit to it, but hey, who does? It's like not admitting to liking ironing, or cleaning (and no matter what GP says, there is nothing odd or obsessive about my love of freshly ironed bedlinen or a nice clean sink).

And in case you were wondering, the name of the blog references the number of the house - number 77. This blog, I suspect, will be neither informative or insightful; wise or well written, but I won't apologise for it. This is what you get when Suzy Homemaker goes gay, finds a girl, rents a U-Haul and tries to build a home.