I know! It's been a while since I devoted an entire post to the wonders of One-And-Only-Daniela but never fear! The time has come again when I talk about her and we all marvel at her awesomeness and bow down before her in wonder.
So, I spent the weekend at One-And-Only-Daniela's this weekend. It was fun. She lives with her mum and three much younger sisters, and I love spending time with them all. She also has a cat, which was the one downer on the weekend, as I am allergic and as such, am feeling a little under the weather at the moment due to allergies making me feel all groggy. You see, due to not having a single friend who doesn't have a cat, I've learnt to suppress my desire to have eyes that don't swell to twice their size or the ability not to sneeze every two minutes when visiting them, and just trying to avoid close contact with those little furry death creatures.
Having said that, on Saturday night at around 1am, I made One-And-Only-Daniela change the bed sheets as I was close to no longer being able to breathe, and it's about at that point that I start putting my needs above the cats. The cat wasn't with us at the time, but had clearly chosen a point earlier on to sit on the bed and spread all its fun little allergy cooties all over the sheets, leaving me in quite a mess after laying down on it for more than 20 minutes. One-And-Only-Daniela was awesome and obliged, although proceeded to redo any of the things I did in the bed making process, as clearly I wasn't doing it correctly. This involved my packing of a pillow in the case, and her noticing that I had done it without turning the case inside out first, which is apparently the only way of doing it, and so she took the case off and did it again. She hadn't noticed that I had done another pillow prior to this, without following her clear system, but ssssh don't tell her. She slept on it without any issue... and now, even if she reads this and realises that that was what I had done, she's not going to know which pillow it was that I had done, and so she won't be able to "fix it" because, let's face it, the pillow looks exactly the same as all the other ones, MWOAH HA HA HA HA HA!
Ahem... little things.
We also played a lot of Michael Jackson 'The Experience.' Which is basically dancing your butt off to all of Michael Jackson's songs. It's not until you hear them all back to back that you realise that man did a LOAD of freakin amazing songs. I mean seriously, I got my groove on so bad, I was working it.
Of course, One-And-Only-Daniela beat me for the entire weekend... Until one glorious moment, on Sunday afternoon, after One-And-Only-Daniela and I gave a particularly dramatic performance to The Earth Song, (which consisted of solely dropping to your knees, raising your arms up and back down, and then doing the same thing standing up) and she still managed to beat me, I felt a resolve form within me unlike anything else. I got my game face on, I did a few lunges and I selected one of Jackson's more competitive songs. Yes, ladies and gents, I naturally selected "Beat It" and proceeded to give One-And-Only-Daniela my most challenging stare.
Naturally, she was suitably scared... or had begun to feel sorry for me, and we begun. Guys, I danced like I had never danced before. I got each and every one of those moves DOWN. I reached for the sky, kicked like my life depended on it, and as for thrusting? Oh I thrusted... I thrusted hard. (Just had a mini debate with someone on the past tense for Thrust. It apparently is Thrust, but we both agreed that Thrusted sounds better, so I'm sticking with it... because I'm just that kind of person).
Guys, I won. I won to the song Beat It. I then went on to win to Black or White. Which One-And-Only-Daniela said wasn't a real win because she was dancing the wrong moves throughout half of it, but I'm taking it as a win, because I hadn't had many that weekend, and so needed all the pick-me-ups I could get.
... There was something that we did on Sunday. It's something that fills me with shame, and I have debated with myself on whether I should admit to it. But confession is good for the soul, so I'm going to get it out there. After adamantly refusing to ever watch Disney's Frozen on the basis of pure principle, I did it... I watched it... and I freakin' loved it as well... I'm such a sell out!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm so sorry people, but One-And-Only-Daniela found out that I had made the statement of not watching the movie and got the mischievous gleam in her eye that she always gets when she's met with a challenge. She also enjoys to be a bad influence on me at times, and so when she sees that I've made a decision based on my morals of not succumbing to peer pressure, she likes to be the ultimate peer to pressure me... having said that, of all the things that she could have chosen to use as peer pressure, I feel that I got off lightly with her forcing me to watch a Disney movie... I suppose it could have been worse.
As I said, I did love the movie, but will talk about it in more detail later in the week, when I do an actual review as a sort of 'before and after', contrasted with my first one (see link above).
The weekend ended with a severe flaw developing in my ability to keep my balance. After almost falling down One-And-Only-Daniela's stairs (something I had only ever done previously under the influence, and was most put out to realise I was also prone to doing this sober), I then managed to hurt myself even further on my way home. Looking back, I am certain of two things: 1. I am incredibly glad that One-And-Only-Daniela wasn't there to see my spectacular second fall, judging by the laughter that emanated from my first one; and 2: It's the cat's fault. He made me all disorientated and allergified and I clearly shouldn't be running with a suitcase for a train when under the influence of allergies.
So here's what happened. I reached the train station on my way home from One-And-Only-Daniela's and saw that the train I needed was arriving. However, it was on the other side of the platform, so I had to run up the stairs, across the bridge, and back down the stairs to reach it. I was already feeling pretty nervous about this prospect, as I had a suitcase full of DVDs (of which we only watched one... naturally) and a slightly fuzzy head consisting of swollen eyes and a bunged up nose.
However, I managed to get across said bridge and up and down said stairs with no incident whatsoever. So happy was I about this whole thing, I just leapt for the train door. It was still open when I was heading for it, however, at some point in my climbing onto the carriage, the doors began to close, trapping my suitcase and the lower half of my body in between them. The hold on my lower leg sent me flying forward and onto my knees. Suddenly terrified for my suitcase I found myself swivelling and pulling simultaneously to pull both leg and suitcase onto the train. However, as the door couldn't close completely, it naturally opened again and the lack of trapping associated with my new pulling technique sent me flying onto my bum instead, my suitcase landing on top of me.
I considered sitting there for the majority of the journey. I mean, I'd already embarrassed myself to enough of a degree that there really wasn't much else I could do to make the situation worse, and I had my music on in my earphones that suitably shut the rest of the world out, so if I closed my eyes, I could just pretend that the carriage was empty. However, I figured that I needed to face the music, so scrambled up and turned my attention to the rest of the passengers. Each and every one of them carried the exact same expression, outward concern marred with an inner suppressed desire to fall about laughing... I did not blame them. So naturally, I decided to do the most British thing I could think of, defaulting to the normal suppressed politeness we all seem to hold. I smiled at them all, let out a small embarrassed laugh and... apologised. Yes you heard me, I fell over and then felt the need to apologise to the other passengers for what? I don't know... possibly the tragedy of them all having to witness such an appalling display of entering a train... or the most spectacular perhaps?
Once I sat down, the pain in my leg really hit in. This was to a point that I became convinced I was bleeding badly. But, even though I feared it would be a gaping wound that would result in massive blood loss if not dealt with immediately, I refused to even acknowledge my leg for the remainder of that train journey, determined to not draw any more attention than I already had to what I had done. In fact, due to ending up sharing the next train with someone from that carriage, I wasn't comfortable checking my leg until I got home and was safely away from all witnesses. Ladies and gents, there was no gaping wound, just a nasty looking bruise... to my leg and ego. Just in case you were worried.
And that was my weekend. Eventful, no?
Peace out my lovelies.
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