(no subject)
I was just in my bathroom, if it can be described as such, when in the mirror I caught sight of three chest hairs in the opening of my polo shirt. I felt extremely like a man, I may go and play pool, drink bear and talk about football. I also may not.
I'm feeling somewhat wankered and drinking orange juice from a cocktail glass. I'm wankered because I didn't get to sleep until 6 this morning before getting up to go to my seminar at 7. I'm drinking orange juice from a cocktail glass because it was the only clean glass left and I can't be bothered to do any washing up.
There was a mad old bird in Trafalgar Square the other day. She went up to a bloke in front of us ('us' being Aaron, Nick et me) placed a hand on each side of his hips and pushed gently then span around with here eyes closed, head up to the sky and a satisfied smirk on her face. She looked about 85 and slightly drunk, I couldn't stop laughing.
Actually, Tuesday was something of a surreal day. Coming out Waterloo station we saw a tramp in the subway leading to the Imax who was propped against the wall, his ankle twisted and head at an angle which looked like the work of a broken neck. His skin was a pale washed out white and he had purple bags under his eyes. He looked dead, but we couldn't be sure and the thought of finding out didn't seem too appealing. After this the old woman in Trafalgar Square happened, then we saw another tramp rooting through a bin for his dinner which isn't so peculiar, but at the time I was moaning about having what I thought was no money so I felt bad. Coming home, along Embankment and all around Waterloo underground station there were armed police, maybe a bomb tip off or something. Either way, memorable day.
I'm feeling somewhat wankered and drinking orange juice from a cocktail glass. I'm wankered because I didn't get to sleep until 6 this morning before getting up to go to my seminar at 7. I'm drinking orange juice from a cocktail glass because it was the only clean glass left and I can't be bothered to do any washing up.
There was a mad old bird in Trafalgar Square the other day. She went up to a bloke in front of us ('us' being Aaron, Nick et me) placed a hand on each side of his hips and pushed gently then span around with here eyes closed, head up to the sky and a satisfied smirk on her face. She looked about 85 and slightly drunk, I couldn't stop laughing.
Actually, Tuesday was something of a surreal day. Coming out Waterloo station we saw a tramp in the subway leading to the Imax who was propped against the wall, his ankle twisted and head at an angle which looked like the work of a broken neck. His skin was a pale washed out white and he had purple bags under his eyes. He looked dead, but we couldn't be sure and the thought of finding out didn't seem too appealing. After this the old woman in Trafalgar Square happened, then we saw another tramp rooting through a bin for his dinner which isn't so peculiar, but at the time I was moaning about having what I thought was no money so I felt bad. Coming home, along Embankment and all around Waterloo underground station there were armed police, maybe a bomb tip off or something. Either way, memorable day.