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Wednesday 20.2.02 | My time of the month seems to come around depressingly and disconcertingly regularly. I decided last night that the best way to avert it was to drink wine and Bailey's and then eat obscene amounts of chocolate with Susie, Jane and Mike. Admittedly I feel slightly virtuous today as I'm currently running on fresh air (no time for breakfast) but goodness me I'm hungry. Thursday 21.2.02 I have joined the fruit tea revolution. This is part of my quest to expunge my body of caffeine for six weeks, but also because I have run out of milk and I loathe black decaff. Friday 22.2.02 Panic over, theory essay is done, handed in, checked, word-counted, not eaten by printer etc. etc. etc. This is the good news. The bad news is that I have another five to do before the end of term (about a month away, if that) and I really can't be arsed to do them - I have begun to detest French and much as I love German there is only so much you can study before it all starts to blend. I think I might need a holiday, rather than just a good bitch. Monday 25.2.02 Goodness me, reading this week's entries, I realise just how boring it's been. My apologies that the continuing exploits of my life don't involve flinging myself from burning buildings, saving orphans from typhoons and the like. This weekend invoked such dramas the fabulous UCL dance show on Saturday night (this would be watching, not participating - I have less kinetic grace than your average Indian elephant), night out to the Liquid Lounge (goodness me - was standing, waiting for Mike and Anna, dumping myself as was alone, outside Kings Cross at night; in five minutes I was offered £20 sex-and-other-things-I-hadn't-heard-of, various drugs and lots of other scary stuff - do you blame me for bricking my load?) - and then yesterday was blissfully calm; couple of hours work in the morning, followed by a drenched walk over the Millennium brige with Will in the afternoon. All in all, a good weekend. Tuesday 26.2.02 Giggle. It seems that if you go to any random search engine and type in something dodgy about flogging, animal sex or other shifty crap, you are lead to Michelle. Admittedly, I dread to think about what you'd have to put into Google to find this pile of crap, and I'm not going to try. Smug revelling is much more fun.
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