Now Playing: giggling neighbours. Cripes, no music listed on here for a full week!
Crikey. All I did was post a link to a babelfishtwisted French version of the front page. Out of boredom. Bastards. You stuffed up my pretty pictures now. 260 page views. Remind me never to mark something 'Private' again.
I fully intended to go to my |genericjob| today, it would get me out of the house and give me something to conversationalise with my New Best Friends at the opera tomorrow, it would liven up my sad boring life (illustration: I spent last night piddling my pants laughing at all of Eurotrash's archived posts), and the exhaustion that |genericjob| usually induces would mean I got enough sleep tonight. (see, if I'm going out with crowds of lesbians on Saturday, the chances of me staying up till 5am Friday night, drinking myself stupid and then looking like Peggy Mitchell on a bad day are increased tenfold. My avoidance tactics are so predictable they've actually become repetitious.)
Plus, |genericwankercolleagues| might actually have been grateful.
I had at least attempted to prove my independence and sanity by walking to the corner shop for some tuna, last night (first time out of the house since Sunday), and felt distinctly unwell. It didn't help that it's Freshers week at QMW, so everybody else in the shop has New Funky Jeans, New Funky Trainers, New Funky Backpack, and makes desperately friendly eye contact for just that little bit too long. Always peps you up to wander, snot-nosed and stringy-haired into an impromptu episode of Dawsons Creek. I tried not to linger by the Pot Noodle, for fear of being sucked into an undergraduate puppy-eyed vortex. Bad enough the first time round.
So I did intend to go and work. The intention was about all that was left. I admit now that it was a bad idea to get pissed in the bath at midnight, not do any of the reading I need, piss about laughing at udate on MSN till about 2am, or to sit up playing with cats who kept fighting over bed-hogging cat-puddle formations till 3am.
The alarm went off at 4.30, ready for me to spring into the required reading. Predictable response.
Woke up again at 8am, which is the time I'm supposed to be pulling the car into the gates at |genericjob| and hastily rang in, to do the crappy 'weak as a flea' voice, not really assisted by my bloody phone zoning in and out of its near-death trance-like state. Causing me to yell in time honoured lusty fashion "can you hear me now?"
Oh well. They thanked me. I got guilts for a full ten seconds till I realised now I need a doctor's cert.
Sleepwatch: 6 hours