It's more of a misery at the total lack of activities currently going on within my life.
I have no homework, as all of my reading journals are up to date, essays are all done and I reeally will just think of an essay title more than likely on the spur of the moment (honest to God, I like my tragic scream idea, and by jove, I am going to put my foot down).
Feet are icky, by the by.
Really icky and awful.
I don't like it that things grow between toes.
And there is far too much hair on those things.
So it really REALLY isn't that I regret quitting.
It was just too much, and Cathy isn't Philly.
Which is fairly obvious from the fact that Cathy is a lady person and has hair, where Philly is a blokey person and doesn't.
All the same.
Think I really needed Drama to have Philly. Or at least Roo.
Sadly, it has neither, and there was too much pressure going on and it all went to shit.
Miss the acting-y bit though. Pretending I was an old woman, doddering around, having an ice cream and a chat about the war.
I'm very tempted to start a blog about "The Adventures Of Betty".
VERY tempted.
She could chat with Vera about the war, and all the gorgeous young soldiers.
Oh dear.
I should stop doing this to myself...
Nope. Too dire for words. Can't do it.
No matter how awesome those two old biddies were, there will be no blog about the good old days.
Sad, but fair I think.
So today, I have to find a new bed.
And a new wardrobe.
And figure out what in the hell to do about my extensive book collection.
Extensive being at LEAST a hundred, probably more.
You have NO idea how difficult it was to empty my room of books.
Very hard.
I had them sort of stored away.
A bit like a squirrell stores for the winter.
But with books.
So we're going to Ikea, AKA the shop with no name (it'll feel good to be out from the rain).
Not entirely keen on all their beds, though.
May have to look in Argos, Tesco, etc.
I am tempted, however, to give up looking for a little bit, maybe go forth and get a coffee. But then I will have literally nothing to do. No books, no magazines. If I wanted to get a magazine, I could walk all the way up Hill Lane, but that would require spending my coffee money on literature. If you can call Look magazine literature (I do just buy it for the pictures, no excuses made here!).
I may have broken the internet.
No shocker there.
Have emailed my mother a picture of a bed.
I like said bed.
Expensive in comparison to a Mars Bar, inexpensive in comparison to gold buillion.
This one!
Quite fond of it.
Better quality looking than Ikea, also. So probably worth the little bit of extra money.
Or at least I hope so.
Maybe get a Netbook.
Easier.
Could blog whilst drinking coffee. Bloody awesome idea, to be frank.
Hour to go. Have I really only killed half an hour???
I wonder how big ten inches is.
No, that is not a sexual issue.
Netbooks tend to have this kind of size of screen.
It would be good to have a little diddy one, to carry to college and type up notes and essays in my free period (Yes, singular free period).
I could use it in the cafe and have hot chocolate at the same time!
How splendiferous.
And the best bit of that would be not having to have a desk in my room, therefore making space for my wardrobe, in all it's extent.
Did not know I had so much clothing until Mum laid it all out on her bed.
Whoopsy daisy.
Honestly, not THAT bad.
I've seen people have worse!!
Mariah Carey...
Okay, it's a wee diddy bit OTT.
But whatever!! I like clothes.
Mother has dubbed it "living beyond my means".
Oh hmph.
I just need a bigger wardrobe!!
And let's be honest here, we're moving in a couple years anywho. I'll do a huge clear out then.
Of stuff that doesn't fit over the considerable tits and ass anymore.
This one would work.
I realise that I was just talking about wardrobes and have now given you a link to a Netbook.
It's okay.
The Netbook was what I was talking about before I started waffling about clothes and Mariah Scary.
She's not that good, tbh.
I prefer Bonnie Tyler.
MUCH prefer.
Bonnie Tyler holds out for heroes.
Mariah Scarey screeches about love and other such crap.
Pfft.
Love.
What bollocks.
(Harry dear, if you have suddenly decided to read my blog, uhm, yeah. Let's talk about this later. Don't leave..?)
50 minutes to go.
Nyurgh.
Mother hasn't emailed back.
I'm hoping for an Ikea dinner tonight, though my stomach feels like it has a continuous small scale cramp.
Better than the continuous LARGE scale cramp of the other day, during which my dinner came back up.
Sarah, the whore, thinks she has given me her virus.
HMPH.
It is NOT her virus...
Wonder how much those immune boosting vitamins (pronounced "it" not "ite", contrary to the beliefs of my father) would cost me?
Though it must be weighed against potential risks.
I could kick my viruses in the arse, and be able to prevent myself from getting worse colds in the near future (we all know it'll happen.).
Hmmmmm...
Saying that, how much money DO I have??
(McMurtry, again, if you happen to be reading this, you owe me £5.85. Normally, I wouldn't insist, but ya know. I'm getting a wee bit on the broke side here.)
£17.03.
Dear lord I need a jobby.
Christmas temp work unappealing, however.
Time to be spent with boyfriend, best mate, and assorted others is MUCH more my kinda thing.
Sigh...
Browsing the Boots site now.
May have to invest in dry shampoo (Note: Ponytail.)
And also colour protect shampoo.
Did not appreciate Sarah's "Your roots are coming through and your colour is fading" this morning.
Hmph.
I bloody know.
Hyper-over-the-top-unendingly-critical, MUCH?
The internet is slow, I've got 35 minutes to kill, and my mother doesn't answer my emails.
Sigh...
And my roots are showing.
It SUCKS that she pointed that out.
All self-concious and tempted by hats now.
Librarian getting pissy about how noisy people are.
Hmmm.
He is particularly noisy.
And now sitting next to me.
Fuck sake.
Okay.
30 minutes to kill.
Noisy bloke has sharpies.
Ugh.
He is sharpie-ing calculators. Pointless much?
MILLEYYYYYY. Just showed up.
May ask if she fancies cafe coffee.
Frankly, shall more than happily pay for her.
Urgh, fuck this, cafe time xxxx
