The fire in your eyes keeps me alive
I have my computer back! It beeps only once when I switch it on now. 'Yaaaaay!' I hear you cry with joy, I am confident enough to assume. It's only been gone for an evening so really I'm a bad person for not telling you my tales sooner.
So you want events, I'm sure. We're going to Dublin next month, which will be exciting because we can eat poatoes and wash it down with Guiness. I don't actually like Guiness. I'm far vainer than that, opting for the brightly coloured drinks which, if I were to personify them in a less than subtle way, would have the same features of Barbie or Jordan. Really I'm there for the 'My Goodness! My Guiness! t-shirts and the accents. They are leg rubbingly good.
There's nothing else really apart from two successful uni applications with four unanswered, I don't know why it's taking them so long to realise that I'm brilliant. There are continuing disputes at home but luckily the older generation have gone to the Wonderland where they will probably get high and watch women dancing in windows. Either that or they'll buy tulips and visit museums. Either way, they're not in this country so I can be at peace. Three days is never really long enough for my liking. She still leaves reminders of course. My vitamin tablets are all neatly lined up oin the windowsill and the weekly chicken casserole which is never going to leave my life, I fear, is sitting, fermenting by the oven. Oh well, at least I know when I come home from a hard day of very little I know all my belongings will still be in the same place, always a relief.
I skip off now to walk round naked, listen to music and smoke my young lungs out. Ah, the joys of being home alone. Ahh! A scary woman with pointy teeth just popped onto my screen offering me a date. Die, heathen wench!
So you want events, I'm sure. We're going to Dublin next month, which will be exciting because we can eat poatoes and wash it down with Guiness. I don't actually like Guiness. I'm far vainer than that, opting for the brightly coloured drinks which, if I were to personify them in a less than subtle way, would have the same features of Barbie or Jordan. Really I'm there for the 'My Goodness! My Guiness! t-shirts and the accents. They are leg rubbingly good.
There's nothing else really apart from two successful uni applications with four unanswered, I don't know why it's taking them so long to realise that I'm brilliant. There are continuing disputes at home but luckily the older generation have gone to the Wonderland where they will probably get high and watch women dancing in windows. Either that or they'll buy tulips and visit museums. Either way, they're not in this country so I can be at peace. Three days is never really long enough for my liking. She still leaves reminders of course. My vitamin tablets are all neatly lined up oin the windowsill and the weekly chicken casserole which is never going to leave my life, I fear, is sitting, fermenting by the oven. Oh well, at least I know when I come home from a hard day of very little I know all my belongings will still be in the same place, always a relief.
I skip off now to walk round naked, listen to music and smoke my young lungs out. Ah, the joys of being home alone. Ahh! A scary woman with pointy teeth just popped onto my screen offering me a date. Die, heathen wench!