Toasted fat reduced testicle sandwich
I still feel pretty drained from the few days I spent in Manchester, although last night I had an early night and all that. I left Stoke on Wednesday, met Lysa at the train station who then straight away filled my ear drums with the rantings and complaints about the personnel department of Primark and then delighted me with a ride on a 50p magic bus! I swear the bus company in Stoke is ripping everyone off in the area, considering how cheap public transport is in Manchester. I stayed with Selina till Sunday lunchtime which was nice, although I'm frustrated at my phone for running out of charge when Dom and Hannah were in Manchester aswell - meaning I didn't get to meet up with them. Sorry guys!
Furthermore to the past couple of days...why do all the creepy fucks live in Stoke? I was waiting for my last bus home at Hanley bus station and I got approached by two Turkish guys, saying how pretty my hair was. I thanked them for the compliment, and then realised I shouldn't have acknowledged them in anyway (it's hard not too, I'm not a rude person). They sat next to me, asking if I was single, and if I would like to go for drinks with them. It's times like this I wish I had perfected my 'fuck off dickcheese' expression or at least got that neon forehead light installed - the one that continually blinks 'I'm not interested', 'Your lack of English offends me' or 'I have spent the past few days eating MUFF!!! kthxbye' .
Mikel or whatever his name was, I don't care I shall now refer to him as 'foreign sleazy man' constantly pushed me for my mobile number although I told him I wasn't interested. I managed to fake I didn't have my phone on me and that I don't know my number off by heart (which is true). I ended up scribbling his mobile number on an old receipt in hopes he would go away and leave me waiting, listening to Peaches - if did work, he kept asking me to promise I would text/ring him from which I said I can't promise because I ist busy lady. He eventually left, thank fuck. What a creep!
I mean, did he seriously think I would go out with a random creep I met at the scabbiest bus station ever? Did he also think I looked like the sort of girl who would love to chav it up in Liquid? I mean, come on...seriously, me? Liquid? Chavving it up? Go away before I ram your testicles into a George Foreman grill.
Furthermore to the past couple of days...why do all the creepy fucks live in Stoke? I was waiting for my last bus home at Hanley bus station and I got approached by two Turkish guys, saying how pretty my hair was. I thanked them for the compliment, and then realised I shouldn't have acknowledged them in anyway (it's hard not too, I'm not a rude person). They sat next to me, asking if I was single, and if I would like to go for drinks with them. It's times like this I wish I had perfected my 'fuck off dickcheese' expression or at least got that neon forehead light installed - the one that continually blinks 'I'm not interested', 'Your lack of English offends me' or 'I have spent the past few days eating MUFF!!! kthxbye' .
Mikel or whatever his name was, I don't care I shall now refer to him as 'foreign sleazy man' constantly pushed me for my mobile number although I told him I wasn't interested. I managed to fake I didn't have my phone on me and that I don't know my number off by heart (which is true). I ended up scribbling his mobile number on an old receipt in hopes he would go away and leave me waiting, listening to Peaches - if did work, he kept asking me to promise I would text/ring him from which I said I can't promise because I ist busy lady. He eventually left, thank fuck. What a creep!
I mean, did he seriously think I would go out with a random creep I met at the scabbiest bus station ever? Did he also think I looked like the sort of girl who would love to chav it up in Liquid? I mean, come on...seriously, me? Liquid? Chavving it up? Go away before I ram your testicles into a George Foreman grill.