So, you all wanted to know whether I passed my test or not? Well, suffice to say, I just wish I could drive my car right now.

But on the plus side, once I’ve registered for my road tax I’ll be able to cos I passed! Yay! First time with only 6 minors. And in 20 minutes, my insurance will be active and my dad will be able to drive it to the garage tomorrow to get the suspension pumped up. My insurance was more than I expected because I have 3 points on my licence from when I got caught speeding on my motorcycle a couple of years back. Turns out though that the insurance company I’m going with (Privilege - thanks for the recommendation wilkz) are one of the few that recognise bikers and so they’ll accept my 2 years no-claims bonus. So back down it goes again. We’re talking a 40% discount, and next year I’ll have 3 years no claims (assuming I don’t crash my car by then).

Anyway, when I found out the news I asked my dad for a high-five. He said no, so I told him to give me a high-five. And surprisingly he went along with it - except with the most terrified, squinting face I’ve seen - just like when you see people moments away from being decapitated on a guillotine. Granted, it’s not a common occurance and probably hasn’t been practiced for quite some time, but just watch Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and you’ll get the idea. Pity my dad didn’t play air-guitar afterward, although on second thoughts it’s probably for the best. I don’t really like classical guitar anyway.

If you remember my post entitled Of dirty mice and men, I mentioned how my dad went a little funny about me mentioning the name Sigmund. Well today when we were filling out insurance forms online, he went to fill in my year of birth and put in 1977 instead of 1983. When I asked him what was going on, he said he just got confused about the date. How can you confuse 1983 with 1977? Maybe he was thinking of his first-born son’s date of birth? Might I not be that first-born son? Could I possibly have an older brother? Named Sigmund? The plot thickens!

Anyways, the new year of school is going well (just a reminder - I only work there - I’m not a student, though it does feel weird being the only person I know that’s both my age and still in High School). There are still some things that happen that’ll surprise you - like posts which you’ve completely forgotten about and start walking into all over again, and new paintings on the wall, including one of fine art - aka the picture with the breasts, which easily grabs the attention of a lot of the boys…

But then some really bad things happen - such as today, I’d ordered a chicken korma to be reserved for me and OH NO! They forgot to reserve it. I was given an alternative meal, but just not the one I ordered. In all fairness though, they allowed me to have my meal for free.

Oh well - at least if they make that mistake again, I can just nip off to Tesco in my car to by a microwavable curry to heat in the staff room’s microwave. I can’t wait to drive my car. I just hope I don’t hit an elk on my first day! And just cos they’re not native to England doesn’t mean that it’ll never happen! Squeaking isn’t native to breasts - but that still happened, sort-of. Kinda. I… don’t know where I was going with that…

Bloody friends - lying to me about breast squeakage
(Hmm, maybe I’m beginning to hold a grudge?)

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