(no subject)
Look, none of you have got the right to complain about your partners when I'm landed with Gretchen Spinks. You could have warned me she was off her head, Susan. She was fine enough last night but as soon as we set off this morning she started asking me about my name and if it was from the bible or the Greek pope and if I was religious, but before I could say anything she was off again, ranting on about the corruption of the Catholic church like it's news. And then she got on the subject of the evils of modern day society and it's umbilical cord to the church, and how we're on the fast track to a global totalitarian dictatorship and how the government is trying to kill us all with exploding fabric and spray-cans.
She hasn't stopped talking since. I'd wager a guess that her favourite word is "Orwellian," considering the fact that she can't go even one sentence without using it. I've stopped responding entirely and she's still not getting the hint. We've been walking for an hour and I sat down to take a break and write this and she's still talking. She's on about how she thinks it's quite equal opportunist of me to keep a diary and that she admires that I'm not restricted by archaic, gender-based stereotypes.
I know boys aren't supposed to hit birds but this one's really pushing her luck.
At any rate, I'm going to try to lose her. We haven't been able to stun much with her chattering on loud enough to reach China. If anyone useful's around, we left the safety zone going north and have been heading that way ever since. I'm going to double back in bit. Maybe she'll be too busy bitching and moaning about whothefuckcares to notice. Anthony, mate, you reading this? Justin? Ernie? Hannah? Susan? Anyone? Hell, at this point I'd even take Scott "The Breather" Rivers. At least he doesn't talk.
I don't think I've ever met anyone more annoying than Gretchen Spinks.
She hasn't stopped talking since. I'd wager a guess that her favourite word is "Orwellian," considering the fact that she can't go even one sentence without using it. I've stopped responding entirely and she's still not getting the hint. We've been walking for an hour and I sat down to take a break and write this and she's still talking. She's on about how she thinks it's quite equal opportunist of me to keep a diary and that she admires that I'm not restricted by archaic, gender-based stereotypes.
I know boys aren't supposed to hit birds but this one's really pushing her luck.
At any rate, I'm going to try to lose her. We haven't been able to stun much with her chattering on loud enough to reach China. If anyone useful's around, we left the safety zone going north and have been heading that way ever since. I'm going to double back in bit. Maybe she'll be too busy bitching and moaning about whothefuckcares to notice. Anthony, mate, you reading this? Justin? Ernie? Hannah? Susan? Anyone? Hell, at this point I'd even take Scott "The Breather" Rivers. At least he doesn't talk.
I don't think I've ever met anyone more annoying than Gretchen Spinks.