Washing one's mouth with soap and water. Literally.
My mouth now tastes of handwash.
This is what happens when I'm in the bathroom gone 3am and I'm completely 100% distracted (okay, I admit I was in the full throes of a fangirl fantasy that was infinitely more interesting than washing my hands). I was meant to be washing my hands, my hands decided to go for my face instead, and next thing I know, I've got a comedy-sized dollop of lavender-scented handwash on my kisser.
For some reason, I found this insanely funny, and inadvertantly laughed out loud and maniacally before I could stop myself.
Which I can't imagine impressed my alienated flatmates much at 3.30am.
I am, as far as I am aware, completely sober. I worry for my sanity.
In other news, I went celebrity spotting today. It was a SUNNY DAY! in Manchester and I was too tired to stay for my lecture screening. The problem, however, was that I failed to spot anyone, but at least I had a purpose. If there are, however, any Mancunian-bound celebrities reading (notice the 'if') who have been wondering about the student loitering around the Midland hotel today (dressed like a female Rik from Young Ones)...hello! It's me!
I'm trying to make up for the fact that I've been completely devoid of my Ker-azy Celebrity Dreams (TM) lately. Not even any Chris Barrie or Robert Bathurst. If this continues, we're going back on the Horlicks. It is, after all, the cause of my Hugh Grant-being-chased-by-cartoon-octopus dream.
I need insanity in my dreams. Otherwise it starts spilling into real life.
Ptt. *wipes mouth* Hmm. Aftertaste.
This is what happens when I'm in the bathroom gone 3am and I'm completely 100% distracted (okay, I admit I was in the full throes of a fangirl fantasy that was infinitely more interesting than washing my hands). I was meant to be washing my hands, my hands decided to go for my face instead, and next thing I know, I've got a comedy-sized dollop of lavender-scented handwash on my kisser.
For some reason, I found this insanely funny, and inadvertantly laughed out loud and maniacally before I could stop myself.
Which I can't imagine impressed my alienated flatmates much at 3.30am.
I am, as far as I am aware, completely sober. I worry for my sanity.
In other news, I went celebrity spotting today. It was a SUNNY DAY! in Manchester and I was too tired to stay for my lecture screening. The problem, however, was that I failed to spot anyone, but at least I had a purpose. If there are, however, any Mancunian-bound celebrities reading (notice the 'if') who have been wondering about the student loitering around the Midland hotel today (dressed like a female Rik from Young Ones)...hello! It's me!
I'm trying to make up for the fact that I've been completely devoid of my Ker-azy Celebrity Dreams (TM) lately. Not even any Chris Barrie or Robert Bathurst. If this continues, we're going back on the Horlicks. It is, after all, the cause of my Hugh Grant-being-chased-by-cartoon-octopus dream.
I need insanity in my dreams. Otherwise it starts spilling into real life.
Ptt. *wipes mouth* Hmm. Aftertaste.