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| Hells_Bells |
Good Friday started with a wet but pleasant drive over the Peaks. By wet, I mean it was raining. You filthy gutter-minded monsters.
As usual, I was treated to wonderful company and even more wonderful food before heading out into the big bad world of Manchester. Well, to Lash anyway, which is where the evening really got into full swing.
So this evil sadist I know decided it would be fun to hit me a bit. And hit me she did. After using all manner of hitty things on my arse, the session ended in a brief chat with one of the DM's, which went something like this:
Me: How can you tell I'm bleeding?
Duncan: Because she's got blood all over her face
Me: Oh
The evening after then was a bit of a blur, apart from when I decided to take a flying leap from the top of the steps in my sparkly shiny high heels. My inner wisdom kicked in and reminded me my arse really hurt, so I did the logical thing of landing on my knees instead. Owch.
The following morning after waking up in a sweat due to the Duvet Of Love (tm), I heard a terrible cry from the kitchen. The kind of scream reserved for horror movies and the like. I peeled my cheek from the dribble-stained cushion, and realised it was the morning and that I really didn't feel very well. I surveyed the evening's damage...oh yes, the life-threatening scream.
Well there were no sirens, no wailing, no hysterical sobbing, so I leisurely made my way down the stairs. On the way up, I saw a naked arse that I wasn't expecting coming up the stairs, the owner of which cheerily shouting “Morning!”. As I worked my way down to the kitchen, the intermingled smell of burning hit my nostrils. I opened the kitchen door to see a smoky, eggy mess.
Who knew eggs burned so rapidly?
The hob was swimming in albumen, but I was still met with sausages AND bacon. <3
Fast forward a little, and move North by about 100 miles or so. I'm lying on the grass, with lambs frolicking 10 yards from my feet, there's not a sound apart from aforementioned sheeps, birds, the tinkle of a small stream, and the laughter of good company.
I soon found out how good that good company was when situating my Converse-cladded feet upon a not-entirely-firm piece of ground the next day. Apparently unable to support the weight of one Hells_Bells, I soon found my foot calf-deep in mud. Not to worry, I have another foot. At least I did until that one went in the same direction. So there I am, both feed embedded in a muddy cocoon, arms flailing wildly. I turn to my country brethren who have supported me so much in the lead-up to this moment. My sisters and brother in arms, the sorority and fraternity of my trip to the country, the only saviours who can rescue me from my dilemma.
They're laughing. They're bent over double, shoulder-shaking unstoppable bouts of laughter. Cunts.
I took matters into my own hands and pulled myself free from my mud foot-coffins with a satisfying “SCHLUUUUP” sound. My black Converse were now a distinct shade of off-black.
After washing them off in some stagnant water, we came across a field. Not just any field, a field with delicious springy green grass, an undulating, springy green grass hill. There was only one thing for it. We had to roll. I swear, rolling down a hill as a child never made me THAT dizzy.
As we made our collective ways back up to the top, we started noticing with alarming frequency the amount of flat sheep shit we were encountering. Ah. My trousers, my jacket, my off-black Converse...were covered in shit.
Nevermind. When in the country, do as the farmers do. (Unfortunately I hadn't bought any farmer slacks or farmer cardigans from the farmer shop).
On the way back, we witnessed a duck gang rape. AWESOME. The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of open fires, finding the smell erotic, cake, discussing the portability of eggs, hoardes of angels, and a million other things that I can't remember right now.
After a not-so-leisurely drive home, we made it back to Manchester, where I reluctantly fought off sleep to make it back over the Snake Pass.
The next day I was off again, this time to London, where I found my way to the East, where an evening of The Simpsons awaited. The next morning found me sitting in an odd office and writing stuff, which is much how the rest of the week went. It was exhausting, but great fun.
And now, I have returned to Sheffield, where I sit on my sofa and enjoy chilling out for the weekend, interspersed with watching more cartoons and playing delicious music on my piano.
I'm not usually a one for LOLLOOKWHATIDIDTHISWEEKEND posts, but this one was just too spectacular to not note down, and couldn't have been done without the aid and friendship of many wonderful people.
Thanks to all who made the last week fucking fabulous.
Also, this
| 20 Apr 09, 9:09 AM Andromalius UK(M), 7 yrs  |
It was our continuing pleasure honey. If then his providence | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 12:23 PM Miss_Despotic UK(M), 5 yrs    |
You bitch. 5 days it's taken me to rid my brain of that song. Most excellent write up of a fantastically hilarious weekend, though you missed out the near death experience with those enraged, charging bulls and the impromptu verse of "Morning has broken". xxx | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 5:00 PM little_miss_precious UK(CF), 3 yrs |
ah it was a brilliant weekend! and Hells, I feel like i've known you an age, not just since last Saturday. ah yes the cows, and the horribly squeaky gate annoying them as i gallantly tried to ensure your safe escape. rememeber 'sheep worrying is an offense'!
that rolling was good. i will never look at hills like that the same way again. and im sorry about the feet in the mud thing, but it was just TOO funny, we could have died of laughter you know! xxx | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 5:01 PM Doghouse_Reilly UK(MK), 6 yrs |
Every house should have a Hells. Was much win having you around missus.  I like being my own worst enemy, because I know where I live and what I'm going to do next. | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 6:02 PM ThedaVamp UK, 6 yrs |
I want a Hells for my place!
Please check your irony levels before attempting to respond to the majority of my posts. | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 8:16 PM Hells_Bells UK(G), 7 yrs |
I'm available for birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, gang bangs or dinner parties. I make great jelly, conversation and cocktails with honey and chocolate sauce. True story.
I wear my heart on my sleeve and my pants on my head | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 8:18 PM Hells_Bells UK(G), 7 yrs |
Ah yes. How could I have forgotten angering that hoarde of angry cows? That was a close one. You were a real trooper, LMP! Saving us all like that. x
I wear my heart on my sleeve and my pants on my head | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 8:22 PM Miss_Despotic UK(M), 5 yrs |
Is that the sound of Hells packing? | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 8:26 PM little_miss_precious UK(CF), 3 yrs |
well we couldnt have you being trampled by cows after your ordeal with the bog now could we xx Edited 20 Apr 09, 8:57 PM by little_miss_precious | |||
| 20 Apr 09, 10:06 PM Hells_Bells UK(G), 7 yrs |
I can't hear you over the sound of me running down the A1 with a wheelie suitcase in tow! I wear my heart on my sleeve and my pants on my head |
I didnt think the cows were that scary until you'd all reached safety and they started glaring at me! that farm was a little odd, with that random sheep and all.