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About time [01 Feb 2007|11:33am]
I feel like writing a blog as it's about time I did so and I miss having a good old ramble.

My first topic of rambling today is the morning after boozing. You may not necessarily get a hang over, but I always guaranteed get wobbly leg syndrome. This involves me trying to walk, but finding it near impossible and it's even more impossible to walk at a normal pace. I'm not joking, my legs become shitter than Scottish sewers. I don't like it. I don't even understand why it's so difficult. Sure I may have lost some energy and be dehydrated, but I don't think you can even comprehend how entirely naf my legs become. The rest of me will be fine but I swear my lower body seeks revenge after I've abused my body with alcohol. It's just plain inconvenient and pisses me off.

My next topic for rambling is about some mature students in my philosophy seminar. They are quite possibly the most irritating beings ever...nice, but irritating. They seem to have missed out on being boffins since forever and are super compensating for it now. They're three blonde, middle-aged women who will make comments such as "But what is colour?" and they will all giggle. WHAT THE FUCK IS FUNNY ABOUT THAT?!!?! They seem to laugh in a way to suggest "What I've said was really clever and has put you on the spot hasn't it." WELL IT FUCKING HASN'T, YOU'RE JUST STUPID! In reality they're nice people and will actually show some courtesy when they see me and wave or something.

Which is another thing. I hate it when people ignore you just randomly when walking past them. Here I'm referring to the people who know you know them and they know you, no matter how insignificant it is. I just think it's polite to give some sort of acknowledgement for other people's existence. I'm not necessarily talking about a stop and chat or even a hello. A simple smile will suffice. These faggoty ladies do seem to be mature enough to meet my requirements for manners, so they're certainly not all bad.

Something, however that I do find puzzling and I know I overanalyse way too much, is when is the right time to smile? It may just be me, but when I see someone walking down the road that i know, I'm extremely conscious of how I act. Should I ignore them up until the point when smiling becomes acceptable, or does that look rude? Should I wave at them before it gets to the smiling point? Or does that make the 50 yards or so walk till I reach them uncomfortable? Even though I think it's necessary to smile and be polite, the timing thing does bother me somewhat. One remedy of this I have found is to pretend like you're on the phone (or actually be on the phone). That saves you from the ignoring element, and the waving too early element as you simply appear busy, but yet there's still enough room to smile. Oh dear, I really do think about things too much.

I think I appear to be done now, unless I can think of something else vaguely worthwhile to talk about, in which case I'll add it later.

Ta ta
2 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Here Jazmin!! [10 Jan 2007|04:39pm]
7 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Corsets [08 Jan 2007|11:19am]
Well I'm sat here in my corset in an attempt to lose a bit of Christmas weight and to make my shape nicer. However I realised how futile it is doing a corset up yourself. My waist is usually 26 inches, with the corset today it's 24. I want to get it smaller! Sacha you will have to help me with this later.

Anyway I'm going to have a moan now about a phrase that I have never been able to understand. Namely "Don't go it alone." I was about five the first time I came across this sentence when shown a video about swimming in the sea and to this day I think it's a load of utter shite. To me the phrase never makes any sense. How can one "go it." Sure obviously it means don't do it or don't go there alone, but what idiot decided to put the two words 'go' and 'it' together. IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE! I hate fact everyone's like yeh well it means this durh. I know perfectly well what it means, but I maintain the use of the English language has been totally cocked up with this stupid phrase! Argh!

On to more pleasant things I met Sacha's mother and sister yesterday. I did find it amusing that his sister and mum probably didn't know I'd seen a video of them from years back when Tara's about 3/4 and being stupid and his dad is commenting on his mum's fat arse. That did keep me amused while trying to chew through a chicken satay that was as tough as a Welsh miner's arm and took me about half a century to eat.

So we went to a Chinese restaurant called "The Happy Inn." What a fucking stupid name for a Chinese restaurant. Firstly it couldn't sound more British so it gives you the impression that they'll be serving pints and there'll be old men smoking cigars at the bar who are there simply to avoid being with their wives. Secondly why call it happy? Are there going to be sickeningly happy waiters there? If I'm going to eat Chinese it's because I'm depressed and want to eat fatty food. I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FUCKING HAPPY WORKERS! So yeah in general I think it's a shite name for a Chinese restaurant. It might be suitable for a kids fast food restaurant which is guaranteed to piss everyone over the age of 7 off but not for you wankers.

Anyway I'm going to sod off now to bake a cake or something. Ta ta xxxx
2 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

New Year [01 Jan 2007|03:20pm]
Well I'm sure you all love my original and innovative title for this journal entry. It's just a quick thing to say happy new year to everyone and I hope this is a good year for you all.

Something I love is the feeling when a hangover is lifting. When you no longer feel sick, but you're tummy feels all sappy and nice. I'm not sure whether I actually had a hangover, or whether it was dodgy wine from last night as Jazminda had a sicky tummy this morning too. Sacha drank the wine, but I swear he has a stomach of steel because he's STRONG!

Onto other things...well nothing much has actually happened. I'm still being my lazy old self and not showering till about 4 in the afternoon. Who can blame me really when my bed's so comfy and the only people I have to look good for are a fat cat, a scratching dog, two other weirdos and more cats.

Hmph I'm not sure what to write now, but I will say this. I don't want to go back to uni. I've realised that my actual real friends are here. I've just been dumped with a load of people who I have to make friends with because I live with them, not because I actually get on with them. I don't want to go back to the amount of drugs going round because that's all everything is based on with my friends. Either Sarah's talking about a come down or Scott's telling me how much Special K he did last night or Pete's just being Pete and constantly smoking weed. It's just very tiring when it seems that that's all there is to them. I mean yeah at uni weed etc is just a normal part of being there, but to me it seems extremely excessive. I would like to make friends with some non-druggies and people who don't constantly feel the need to impress other people or suck up to each other all the time. I respect Sarah because she doesn't act like this, but then she does the drugs and smokes a lot, which is a habit I'm actually doing very well without.

I'd like to make friends with people that are like my friends already, but that seems really hard to find. We'll see.

Anyway less moaning, more showering.

Ta ta
7 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Happy happy happy [21 Dec 2006|01:02pm]
I love the fact you're always there for me. I love that I can tell you everything, things I've never told anyone before. I love the way you're the kind of person I can trust. I love the way you don't think I'm a burden or tell too much. I love the way you make me open up. I love the way you understand.

I just wanted to say thank you for listening. I feel ten tonnes lighter without these things playing around in my mind. I hope I can do the same for you whenever you want to tell me your problems or concerns. I hope you'll trust me enough not to judge you for anything you've done (apart from killing that dog, but that's partly Chris' fault). Note for everyone else he didn't actually kill the dog.

In other news, I'm soooo excited for Christmas!!! I want to drink mulled wine and eat peanuts! I can't wait for a cosey Christmas with turkey and foooood and wiiine! I can't wait for presents, I can't wait to give presents. Only problem is Sacha's fucking present won't turn up in time for Christmas. People suck.

I'm feeling slightly hyper as Jazmin's coming over any minute now so excuse me if I scoodadle quickly. We gonna watch films and be pretty and eat pizza and popcorn and such like. Argh hyperness.

Anyway I think I'm done now. Once again thank you sacha my darling love and hello Jazmin!!!!
1 alcoholic kind of mood|Eat me

[12 Dec 2006|06:18pm]
I get pissed off very easily by the people here. Last night Jon cooked us all a meal so Sarah and I volunteered ourselves to cook for tonight (meaning I'd be doing all the cooking).

Now Polly and Alison have decided to do an impromptude Christmas dinner for Maddie because she leaves tomorrow. Firstly, we knew Maddie was leaving early, so why the impromptudeness? Secondly I don't get invited, and thirdly we're minus about 5 people for the casserole thing which I've made. Not only have I been cooking for two hours, but everyone always drops everything for Maddie, even when her stupid boyfriend happens to kiss another girl, the whole corridor stops like she's the first person to ever have been cheated on.

I hate this fucking corridor. No one fucking bothers to even turn up to my birthday do, but they'll quite happily spend all day consolling Maddie. I don't begrudge friend support or even making a meal, it's just the fact that when there's a problem with Maddie, I seem to be the one who gets forgotten. Everyone else is asked to get involved and me and my efforts just get pushed into the background.

I'm just very fed up.

I don't want to start to bitch, but I don't see what's so great about Maddie. People always suck up to her. Why? I don't know. She's not pretty, she's loud mouthed, she's overtly sexual to get attention, she's attention seeking. She entirely pisses me off. I don't have an issue with her really. It's only when she gets favoured over everyone else, when I can see there's a lot better people around. Polly's lovely and popular, but Maddie's always at the front of everything.

Hmm...needed a rant.

Going to continue cooking now

2 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

[07 Dec 2006|07:58am]
Marry me?
1 alcoholic kind of mood|Eat me

For Sacha [06 Dec 2006|05:25pm]
It's not just the fact that I'm in love with you, it's the fact I want everything with you. Of course I'm excited about the big things, such as weddings and children, but more than anything I'm exciting about the little things...

About cooking dinner with you, doing washing with you, both getting ready for work in a rush in the morning. I want to do all the cozey things. I want us to drink orange hot chocolate on a sunday whilst watching a silly film like Jason and the Argonauts. I want us to have friends over, as a couple and host dinner parties. I'd get all frantic cooking and get all snappy and you'd just be standing there with your glass of wine trying to calm me down. I want us to be watching Chelsea, me trying to commentate and you just giving me the most ridiculous looks which makes me shut up and eat the crisps (or maybe little boy's willies if we're lucky).

I can see how we'll be together, every inch. I just can't wait to live with you. Make time hurry up so we can be together every day.

I love you with all my heart.
Eat me

When you're away [04 Dec 2006|10:25pm]
When you're away from me, or I'm away from you, I get depressed, insecure and hostile.

This is why I attack when I think you're attacking me or when I think you're being cold, or when I think you don't care anymore. It's not that I've stopped loving, it's a form of defense.

I'm sorry.
Eat me

Really not happy [23 Nov 2006|08:07pm]
I'm really not happy here at the moment. Yes I like having time to myself and being alone, but no one seems to want to include me in anything. They don't just ask me to come into their room and watch a film with the rest of them or anything like that. I think I've got the stigma of being 'sarah's friend' and being attached to her, but we don't spend that much time together, we just happen to share food and cutlery and stuff. I don't want people to think we're two best friends because we're not, and the rate she talks I just couldn't cope with that. People even get confused with our names. I'm sorry but how fucking different do we look?!

Polly has her little loyal group and they seem to include each other in everything and see each other every night. We started off with a group but that's soon faded away. Maddie pushed her way in there about 3 weeks ago, it all seems slightly fake, but nonetheless they all seem to be very happy.

The other annoying thing is I'm really not myself around them. I go shy and become boring. I find it hard to make conversation and they blatently all prefer my boyfriend to me. As soon as he comes they all start laughing and being chatty. When it's just me not much fun is to be had.

I think part of the problem is that everyone's fitted into a role. Maddie's the crazy one, Alison's the homely cook one, Polly's the popular one, Sarah's the geeky chatterbox, Liv and Mel are the soap addicts, and I just don't seem to fit into a role. I could be the cook, homely one, but that's gone. It's hard to find out who I am among these people.

It's times like these that I'm really starting to miss my old friends and having people I can depend on. I'd knock on people's doors for a chat, but I don't feel comfortable doing that as I feel rude. To be honest I feel slightly intimidated by Polly's group. The girls are very close and very touchy feely. I've never been like that with female friends. It makes me feel left out even if I'm standing in the kitchen with them.

This all sounds completely lame and pathetic, but it's just getting me down.

It's like my birthday thing. People have organised stuff for everyone else, including a few surprise parties, but no one's doing it for me. I thought at least Sarah might do something, but she's not. It's left down to me to organise everything as usual. I'm just not happy...I'm not even sure anyone will turn up.

I'm really just not happy at the moment.
5 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

[17 Nov 2006|09:32am]
still calling girls from the internet. still planning to meet up with girls from the internet...on the same day we're supposed to be going out. no wonder you said you'd be late. apparently you have nothing to hide. i think you do. fuck you.

i'm not enough for you and you know it.

today's cancelled.

stay at work or something.
3 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Drunk [15 Nov 2006|08:18am]
Ok, so it's 8.00 in the morning and I'm still drunk after last night. I came to this conclusion when I walked to go to the toilet, but couldn't walk in a normal way i.e. i was swaying from side to side. Yet I feel the need to write a blog about a few things, mostly things from last night.

Firstly there's this girl in my corridor, Sarah. It's taken me over a month now to actually grasp how boring she is and how she talks utter crap. Obviously I like her, but sometimes I just need to moan. Not only does she come in my room every time she gets in after her lectures to talk to me (I don't really have a problem with this), but she will talk AT me for about half an hour at the least. She even shows me her fucking work and goes through everything basically that her lectures were on. I DON'T CARE! I CAN'T DO CHEMISTRY, THAT'S WHY I DO PHILOSOPHY, I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS CRAP! On a funnier note last night there were loads of us in John's room for partyness and a girl I know from history of art and architecture was there and I looked at her face. She looked bored as hell and I just saw her nodding. Who did I see talking at her? Sarah, who also had the look on her face I know she gets when she starts talking and will never stop. This poor girl has been introduced to Sibly Hall and has had to cope with a chatter box machine that no one can find where the fucking batteries are to turn it off! Another little note...at a party conversations usually consist of sex stories, reminiscing about stupid things, stupid things, talking about other parties, gossiping etc. What does Sarah feel the need to talk to me about? How she might have glaucoma because her mum's got it, so her and her sister have to go to the opticians to get it checked out otherwise she could go blind. For a start she wears glasses anyway so should have to get her eyes checked out fairly regularly, but also WHO THE FUCK TALKS ABOUT THIS AT A PARTY!

Right, rant over. Obviously last night I drank too much, in fact I'm looking at a bowl full of sick on the floor right now...nice. I'll get rid of it when it's quieter so no one will discover the true fact that I do drink too much. I didn't do badly in all honesty. I drank two and a half litres of cider and then about half a bottle of Scott's rum, who actually asked me to punch him in the face really hard, TWICE! How good is that! Finally I get to hit people and they like it.

We ended up talking to some guy from Bombay on the 9th floor (Scott and I went up there to see where our cars were in comparison to each other). We ended up talking to him for about an hour or more, but I couldn't understand a fucking word he said. I picked up some sentences or words, but he had a seriously thick accent! If I didn't know any better I'd think he was a Clanger or something. Since he was aiming most of his conversation at Scott, I got the pleasure of watching his face trying to work out what he was saying, you know that sort of embarrassed look because he can't understand and then looking at me for reinforcement. It was funny at the time anyway...I even lolled, lalled or lulled.

I think that's all I can manage now, and in fact all I have to say. This is good, writing this has sobered me up yay
Eat me

I hate my ear [13 Nov 2006|07:44pm]
Right so there's something wrong with my ear. I'm deaf in it and last night it fucking hurt. It feels like someone has actually pushed silly putty in my ear while i was sleeping...not mentioning any names (Sacha). Anyway I thought maybe if i write a blog, my brain will be working so hard that it will heat up and melt whatever shit is in there.

The kitchen is a fucking tip. There is a pile of washing up in the corner and uneaten pasta in some shitty sauce made from abortions. Thing is we know the person who's it is. It was Amy (this really weird girl whose boyfriend is illegally living here). Now the funny thing is, this morning (afternoon really), I walked in the kitchen to get a glass of water and she came in, looked around, said, and I quote "This kitchen is a fucking mess." I'm not sure what she's playing at here, but why say anything if it's you? She now looks stupid as she's trying to cover up for her OWN shit in the kitchen, when we all know it's her. Obviously she doesn't know we know it's her. These sentences are actually hurting my brain. But yeh my point is, not only is she in the fourth year of uni, but she lies like a fucking two year old who maintains they did not eat chocolate even though there's brown shit all round their mouth.

Something i must confess is that I have eaten far too much cheese this weekend. I've actually gone through two large packs of Cathedral cheddar. Admittedly I wasn't the only one eating it, but nonetheless I fear I may actually turn into a mouse...or just a fat piece of cheese. Then I'd end up eating myself because cheese is so good and it would all be very messy and silly really.

My ear's still feels like a builder's arse squeezed into size 6 jeans so this obviously isn't working yet.

Now I was going to write a special blog for this, but I think I'll just include it here. I'm actually going all girly just thinking about it. From a couple of blog's ago you may remember me being slightly less than sober and having help going home. Yes? Well the morning after the Sacha Bear arrived at my house and said the famous words "We need to talk" and i'm sorry but who fucking says that when it's going to be good news. Anyway after literally shitting myself and staining our lovely ivory sofas, he sat on the foot stool and gave me my birthday present early. I opened it and was actually in shock. It's this gorgeous diamond ring that I don't even want to imagine how much it cost because I'd probably never wear it and lock it in a safe and put it in my tummy never to be seen again. His reasons for giving it to me was to remember that he's always with me, especially when I'm drunk, and to let me know he looooves me. Damn I feel stupidly soppy now. I love you Sacha and my ring looks so pretty!!!

Ok well I feel cheesey and crap now so I'm going to go. Send happy thoughts to my ear...or buy me ear drops (might be more practical).

Post-note: buying my ear drops will not be practical because out of the two people who read this Jazmin lives in Leeds and Sacha lives in London. Yes I'm shit.
2 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

[10 Nov 2006|12:05pm]
1 alcoholic kind of mood|Eat me

[09 Nov 2006|12:46pm]
Through all of this I'm doubting, but I'm not doubting that we'll be together forever. I'm here for you through this, whenever you pick and choose. I love you.
Eat me

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens [07 Nov 2006|07:11pm]
These are a few of my favourite things. This weekend also included a few of my favourite things. See the amusing yet extravagant way I incorporated my title into this journal? I'm great.

I will start from my drive on Thursday. I skipped my last lecture and managed to get back in about an hour and a half, to meet Sacha (one of my favourite things) at Morden Station. I arrived to see that I was half an hour early so I did the usual things one might do to entertain oneself. I read through all the messages on my phone, listened to all the music on my phone, looked at all the videos on my phone and reset my alarm clock. What the fuck would this day and age do without mobiles! Seriously I would have slit my wrists if I didn't have a phone that evening. Anyway it was fucking cold and finally Sacha arrived and I drove him home, whilst chatting of merry things such as ale and pies (that's what was in my head at least). When I arrived home, I was greeted with a FAT lasagne and garlic bread. I have never tasted anything so good since the time I was stranded in a snow storm and I shot a polar bear (stupid Family Guy impression). First evening was pretty average.

Friday was FIREWORKS DAY (another of my favourite things)! I was in a good mood because I'd done shit loads of work in the library. I think I only got so much done so quickly because I hadn't paid for a two hour's parking ticket. I just got the free one hour one, so I got scared and worked fast in case I got told off by some twat with curly hair and round glasses who you swear was Postman Pat in that kid's play you saw about 15 years ago. Anyway I met the lovely Name much later and she gave me a Martini STRAIGHT UP BITCH! And we toodled off to the station. Twenty minutes later we arrive in Clapham Common and the amount of fucking people there. I actually could barely move. I stank of fish because I was so sardine-like. Met Sacha with 6 bottles of wine, three shitty Rose crap and three white. It was cold. It was cold. It was cold. But the fireworks made me all warm and fuzzy inside. To Sacha's disappointment the fireworks ended after half an hour and even though the wine was keeping us warm, he still moaned about the cold. Name bought sparklers, which Toby, the knob, refused to join in with! So basically he travelled from god-knows-where to Clapham Common, missed the fireworks and then refused to partake in the merriment! What a November Scrooge.

Well we all went back to Nameling's house and drank more. I got grumpy because Sacha tried to undo her bra, but some well needed rough sex soon sorted that out. Now, we were staying in Name's front room, and you'd think all the sweat and body heat would warm up the room, but ooooh no. It was freezing. There was a glass of water that by the next morning I swear was ice. Not only was it cold, but Sacha decided to 'waste' the covers. I had practically none, and I was thirsty so got up to get water to find half of the bloody covers ON THE FLOOR! I hate you cover wasters (but you don't do it normally so it's fine).

We woke up on Saturday pretty early, both felt like shit from drinking too much wine, and I swerved the car home to get ready to go to an Open Air Museum with my parents and David and Sandra. I had to sleep on the way there or I would have thrown up the Titanic and probably most of New York. I could hear my parents bickering about directions and Sacha nervously laughing at them, but finally we got there. It was cold. It was cold. This is the boring part. We walked round some fucking old houses with terrible insulation and creepy baby cots. But we did get free food from the kitchen where they sampled what Tudor food would have been like. Cheese and leek bread. I will never forget it. Then we had this talk by this man who was literally a turtle in disguise. Snails have left their shells faster than he could talk! I'm not kidding. I resorted to leaning on Sacha, who was in turn, leaning on a pillar. We looked at some old stuff, like walking sticks. Thing is though some of them had been broken off, so it was basically a hook. WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE WANT TO KEEP THIS! It honestly looked like junk, until I found a jar of Waitrose Olives among the shelves which amused me greatly. We went home, ate steak and that was the end of a tiresom day 3.

This is a fucking long blog so I'm going to apologise now.

Right Sunday. I had planned to go to the cinema with Jazmin, David and Sacha (my favourite things). All was going well, I'd picked up Sacha, got some more petrol, picked up Jazmin and David in an impulse bad parking moment and we'd eventually gone to Epsom. This is when bad stuff happened. I thought it'd be nice if we all went for a drink and Sacha could watch the Chelsea match in the pub, so we'd bought our tickets, ordered drinks and some various pieces of food. Two hours later and I was fucking slaughtered. I'm not kidding, I have never ever been this drunk. Ten minutes into the film and apparently I'd decided to go and have sex with Sacha, so I walked out, Sacha follows with my things, and after that I can't remember much apart from puking next to a tree, hitting my head A LOT, and some nice lady looking down at me (apparently she asked if I needed an ambulance). All I can say is thank God Sacha was with me otherwise I would probably be in a ditch right now with some hobo named Ned. I'm also incredibly sorry for leaving Jazmin and David stranded in Epsom. The odd thing is, even though I was wondering in and out of consciousness, I still managed to walk home the short cut. This is what psychology talks about when they say you have different levels of consciousness, so thumbs up to Freud. His theories have been widely discredited as they are hard to prove, but get me drunk, put me in a maze and I guarantee I'll be able to get out quicker than your fucking mouse!

Anyway MONDAY MEAT DAY (another past-time of mine). Picked up the Sacha, drove to Toby's house, WENT TO BUTCHERS! Oh my God, I never knew I loved meat this much. We got the fattest steaks, literally about a foot and a half long each (which I got to cook), haggis, white pudding (I still haven't worked out what this is), pies. We also had bacon and ox tongue, but we didn't eat much of those. My God, I'm still dreaming about that steak. We ended up having a pretty ladish day. Meat, Schwarzenegger, and farting (on Toby's part), but Sacha did partake in bottom burping a little. I however could not even produce one measley burp. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH MY STOMACH!

Later I drove home, to meet my slightly offish parents and proceeded to drive home in about an hour, which according to the speed limit I should have done in an hour and a half. I have no patience as regards to motorways. It's a straight road and should be driven down fast (no criticising my evidently flawed logic).

So here I am back at Sibly and I'm sure you've had enough reading by now, and Sacha can now add this weekend to his memories. Thanks for reading and hopefully see you next time for another installment of LAURA'S SHITTY BLOGS.

Peace out
2 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Putting off work [02 Nov 2006|12:15pm]
Well I really should start some work now as I'm going home today and need to hand it in on Tuesday, but nah, I'll write you all a lovely entry instead.

Updates for you: I was informed this morning by a fellow student that those who are dyslexic and attend Reading University have to fill in five forms. Is someone taking the piss? Forcing people who can't read or write sufficiently to fill in FIVE forms. It's like asking someone with no arms to do weight training. IT'S STUPID!

Not only is this stupid, but last night on floor 3 there was a samurai fight. Some people got lairy and gay and decided to actually fight. One got stabbed and had to go to hospital. Firstly, who the fuck takes a samurai sword to uni, and secondly the corridors are like a metre wide, and you're surprised someone got hurt? Silly people. If I was going to take a form of weaponry to uni I'd take a fucking AK47, then none of these pricks could mess with me! Stupid gangstas.

What else to inform you of...ah yes my video entries on myspace. The bo (ha bo) and I decided to post video entries of myself, basically doing buggar all, on myspace under pornographic names such as 'Breasts in a Restaurant' and 'Dildo.' The amount of fucking views! It's ridiculous. I've also had several complaints that I wasted their time...LOOK ON FUCKING REAL PORN SITES!! They're blatently 14 years old boys whose parents have blocked any form of nudity including elbows *Shock Horror*

I've just realised most of my entries are complaints of some sort. Let me think of something positive.........nope. Something else I would like to moan about is there's this guy called A.Butt (don't even get me started on the jokes), but basically I know this guy because he's had a package waiting in reception for him for about 3 weeks now and I keep seeing his name there. Not only has he not picked it up, but he's also got mail from reception telling him to pick it up in the B section of the pigeonhole. Does this guy not actually know about post and how it works?! As in you actually have to go and collect it. Anyone would think they were asking him to try and squeeze into a China man's arse. JUST PICK UP THE FUCKING PACKAGE!! What's more depressing is that this actually botheres me.

I think I'm done stalling now. Happy Halloween and Fireworks Night. No burning your bottoms!
Eat me

Update [30 Oct 2006|07:38pm]
Well, evidently from the title, it's time for another update, obviously to all my fans' joy. Where to begin? I'm going to start with some complaints. Firstly I was quite happily sitting at my computer doing some work today with the curtains open because it was only about four o clock and still light, when I heard a firework. Who the fuck sets off a firework when it's still light? No one can see it?! It causes a big bang for no reason, and you've wasted about a fiver. What is the fucking point?!

Secondly I want to moan about this girl who regularly knocks for the girl next to me, usually about mid-afternoon. This is the time i have my nap and I get woken up by hearing "AKAAAAAAI, AKAAAAAAAAI" and loads of banging on the door. This is no ordinary banging. You'd think that the hall was on fire and they had 3 seconds to get out. Not only that, but the girl's name isn't even Akai or whatever she's yelling, and i mean yelling (Sacha will vouch for this). Just shut the fuck up, people are napping and there's no need to yell. If she's not answering the door she's either out or doesn't want to talk to you, and to be honest, I'm not surprised either! It's like having Pavarotti sing forte in your ear! She's going to make the whole fucking hall deaf!

Anyway, was there anything else to complain about? Yes, namely my stomach. My darling was being lovely as usual and bought me chocolate (from this amazing chocolate shop, but that's another story). So we'd settled down to watch 40 year old virgin and I ate quite a bit of chocolate...no a lot of chocolate for me anyway. Two hours later, what happens? I get really bad stomach cramps and throw all the chocolate up, as well as the pie Sacha had bought for me earlier that day. How bloody selfish does my stomach want to be? I feed (well Sacha feeds) me with yummyliscious things, but nooo it gets rejectedas it's evidently 'not good enough' to be fully digested.

I think I'm done moaning now. Onto the good stuff. Well it's Halloween tomorrow and, predictably, I'm going as a pirate and Sarah's going to be my wench. She's going for the busty, prostitute look. There's only one problem...she has no boobs, but my wonderbra will do wonders. I've opted for the easy option and decided to wear exactly the same thing as I did to my 18th. Who says I'm lazy?!

Well I think I've said all I have to say, so I will toodle off to help Sarah decide what to wear.

Ta ta my loves
3 alcoholic kind of moods|Eat me

Oh dear [27 Oct 2006|08:19am]
i never want to get as drunk as i did last night, not because i feel sick (which i don't), but i have no fucking clue what i did. i actually can't remember. until about 5 minutes ago i thought i'd lost 3 earings, when actually they were on the other side of the room. i have cuts on my wrist. what the fuck was i doing?! i remember a kitchen knife at one point, but who knows why i cut. people keep asking me what time i went to bed. i have no fucking clue, but it is guaranteed after 12 just because i can vaguely remember up until that point. i'm really pissed off with myself.

i don't think you love me anymore
Eat me

[25 Oct 2006|10:26am]
fuck the happy posts. that's all over now.
Eat me

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