Snooze Buttons and Sloths

Was just reading a post (courtesy of Simple Dude Complex World) on pretty much my favourite thing to do OF ALL TIME EVER !
And I was wondering...
                     how do you guys sleep?




Do you sleep face down?

Or foetal?

Scrunched up in the smallest pretzley ball humanely possible?

Stretched out like a skydiver?

On your head?

In your car?

Like an egyptian (do do do do)?

Feet up, head down?

In a hammock?

On top of a roof?

Sloth style?

And if you're wondering about my preferences; I like to be in a scrunched up ball and sleeping past my alarm. The snooze button is probably my favorite thing to ignore ever... it even beats out chores and homework. I can cope with cuddling; but by Jesus if they're touching me when I wake up... I will have to leave the premises.
No exceptions
Ever


Give us a shout and let us know all about your prime snoozing position!


Adios Amigos
xx


p.s
I'm sorry for the state of my drawings. The impossible has happened - they GOT WORSE! Hopefully a little more sleep combined with more effort will mean recognizable human shapes next time at least...

Sour Fruit, Interior Decorating and Sleeping Bags

Dear readers,
If you have not already realised this; I am completely and utterly insane.
So bear with me ...



Let's start with Friday night.

As usual on a Friday night, I had work til 9. And my housemate R came to pick me up with our friend Mickey (he is a little bit in love with her; yet will happily substitute her for groping me when she's not around... a behavhiour I DO NOT encourage); after work. I ended up finishing at 10 (crazy night at work + overly keen supervisor who still asks me how to run the place = late finish)... YET... being the lovely person I am I decided to still go out and have a drink with them.
"Just one," I thought to myself.
So we went to a club and waited in the line.
Mickey told us that his friend worked there and would get us in.
Fifteen minutes we were still standing out in the fucking cold; and then his friend (Sour Fruit) rang us and said that him and another of Mickeys friends (we shall call him The Short One) were on their way to another club.
So after about a second of considering just staying in the unmoving line we decided to trek on and go somewhere else.
"Just one drink, then I'll go home," I thought to myself again.
Half an hour later we were sitting in the upstairs of the club; knocking back our drinks with a little too much enjoyment.
I was pretty keen to dance a little and go home; so I could rest up and be beautiful for work the next day.

Then... R, Mickey AND The Short One all decided to bail. So I was left there with an increasingly drunk Sour Fruit.
"Fuck it," I said to myself, "I can just ditch him in a bit and get a cab home."
So we decided to go to my favourite club ever; the gay club (which will henceforth be known as Square).

And so we wandered a couple of blocks to Square; got drinks and took to the poles.
Approximately five seconds after we'd got to the dancefloor - the cops came in.
And shut down the club.
Needless to say I was SHITTING myself.
Not only was I totally underage.
I was with a guy I barely new (albeit a nice one); who was taller than everyone else by about a head, shirtless and quite loudly drunk.

Good.

After being drug-sniffed (by dogs... not the cops... sadly, as I quite like a sexy man in uniform) and videod half an hour later we were are allowed to leave.

At this stage it was about 2am.

"I'll go home soon..." I said to myself.

Then we went to some more clubs. And being a bartender, Sour Fruit knew EVERYONE in the existence of everwhere. Which basically just means free drinks. So basically - half my conversations went from well meaning brush offs ...

ME : I'm having so much fun, but I should really go; I have work in the morning...

to this...

SOUR FRUIT : Aww but I just got us more drinks...

ME : Okay... I guess... But after these ones I better go...

Also included in my night was almost getting thrown up on by a hundred drunk chicks dressed up in the most hideous tie-dyed outfits ever (I maintain it was the sight of eachothers clothes and not alcohol that made them need to vom...), getting told to 'be careful of Sour Fruit' by a girl dressed up as a cat (including ears, tail and nose) and Sour Fruit himself dragging me into a bus stop on our way past the interchange and lecturing me on the topic of true love and that it exists etc, for half-a-freaking-hour!
So one club led to another and I ended up getting home at 5:30.

All in all I got almost an hour and a half of beautiful luxurious sleep.
And let me tell you... and hour and a half of sleep is not nearly enough for someone to work an entire shift on.
Not even CLOSE!

Another beautiful thing about my car...  in this weather... apart from my starter motor going at the same time as my clutch and the cold weather not helping either... MY HEATING IS FUCKED >:(   >:(    >:(

This means that I cannot heat myself up, nor can I defogify my windscreen. HELLO! driving along in the cold, wet and rain with my windows down and windscreen wipers flat-chat so I can attempt to see out the front. Just forget about seeing through my rear windscreen... or the side windows for that matter.

Seeing as it is so cold, and my heating is so... well... nonexistant... I have resorted to an awful, awful means of keeping warm.

Ladies and gents, I must from now on; drive whilst in my sleeping bag.
It actually works suprisingly well.
I just unzip the bottom so I can actually press down my barely there clutch and brakes and touchy-as-fuck accelorator, and hey presto, instant warmth.

However, I'm pretty sure that driving around in the stylish purpley-blue sack of warmth has seriously damaged my street cred (ha ha ha...)... That is to say that I'm fairly certain a large percentage of the people who see me in or around my car assume that I
a) live in it
b) am a total bum
c) a crack whore
and probably d) can't even afford a sleeping bag that zips up at the bottom...

Well... desperate times DO lead to desperate measures...




On a slightly more positive note... I am FUCKING KEEN FOR FRIDAY NIGHT. I am not (for once) going out clubbing.I am in fact going to a friend's joint 18th (which is about 6 months overdue and should therefore be about 6 times more awesome than it would usually be... and if you know my friends that means PRETTY FUCKING AWESOME!).

I have spent the last 3 hours of my life starting to prepare the venue (one of the boys just sold their house, which the builder is knocking down; and they still have the key... did anyone say DEMOLITION PARTY!?!?!). Which basically involved cooking frozen pizza and eating icecream out of the tub whilst watching a whole lot of my friends put up plastic and newspaper all over the walls. This has the dual effect of both protecting the walls from any vomit/alcohol/other stains AND making the house look totally fucking awesome. Almost like a Haunted House Ride. But with less ghosts and more loud music and drunk people.

If it's not fucking amazing I will eat some of the 3 month old Butter Chicken sitting in my freezer.
And no one wants that... do they?

Ciao ciao Amigos. 

I'll fill you in on every atrocity this event has to offer...

If...    you're lucky ;) 



Gay Bars, Groping and General Confusion (and a Phone Sex Operator?)

Still about to die, as my immune system totally disagrees with my love of clubbing ...

Anywho :)


I love gay bars.
The gay clubs continue to be the only place I have not yet been groped by random strange men. And I don't really mind being groped by random strange men every now and then. It's the ones that actually expect me to consider them acceptable suitors that disgust and scare me.

The main one in my city comes complete with fabulously gay bouncers and bar staff, and wonderfully drug fucked old gay men who dance like they're vying for a role in Saturday Night fever. It also is home to a UV light stage/podium area (trust me, when you've had a few drinks - your teeth glowing in the dark is FUCKING AMAZING), lounges, stripper poles and cages.

If I hook up in one of those cages (albeit with a GUY - I still remain entirely straight); my life will be complete.

Also; the generosity of Le Gays still continues to inspire and suprise me. Even though I am very obviously a girl (I tend towards the current fashion of short/tight/low-cut when it comes to clubbing dresses) - I will almost always get given lovely free drinks from lovely generous men.

I especially love the fact that I end up with the same amount of money I go out with because
a) I am a girl; therefore everyone pays for me
b) I am the youngest; therefore everyone pays for me
c) Even when I have money, if I hunt around in my bag whilst trying to find said money to buy shots for me and 8 of my friends in said gay club - the fabulous guys there still shout us all drinks (even though I insist I DO have the money in my bag)

... and they don't even try to put anything in my drink or attempt to put their hands up my skirt. They just smile (their gorgeous smiles), occassionally give me a peck on the cheek; and go and hook up with another beautiful gay man.

It's enough to make me a little bit jealous.

That being said - I have enough gay friends that I could definitley become a one woman gay dating agency. My friends call me the Fag Hag for a reason (they really are such pleasant people, my friends).



Speaking of which... I now have a room mate. And it's fucking awesome.

My bedroom is basically a jumping castle. There is not a single inch of carpet showing in the entire joint. It is literally a blowup mattress surrounded by my bed and chest of drawers. You can barely open the door enough for us to get out due to limited floor space. I love it! The only problem is that the jumping castle is un-jumpable as I'm preeeeeetty sure airbeds should not under any circumstances be jumped on.
LAME!


R moved in with me on Tuesday; and she'll be staying until she can find a house of her own. She may end up living with Crazy T (another one of my friends, who is totally crazy and has nowhere to live because his girlfriend of 4 years broke up with him and kicked him out of their house... after she told him she's been cheating on him for 6 months. Poor chicken). This is mainly motivated by the fact she is a poor Uni student (although she makes WAY more than most of my friends that work full time); and as Crazy T works for the Army, half their accommodation gets paid for by the government.

Lucky shits. Oh well, I guess I'll be going to A LOT of parties when they're moved in.

Have I mentioned they're BOTH crazy ?!?!
Fucking awesome, but crazy.

And the beautiful thing about living with R... she is my number one go-out-with friend. She is about 2 months older than my ID says I am - and totally up for dancing and drinking with pretty much everyone.

Which means, we can go out whenever the fuck we want - no real organizing involved. And we can both stumble into a taxi and drag ourselves into the house together - and complain together when we have to get up for work at 7 in the morning.

Also - we can lie there at night and bitch about the various things that are pissing us off. Usually men, money and work. It's beautiful. I almost don't want her to move out... except for the obvious advantage of floor space becoming available.


I hung out with N last night. You may remember him as the 20 yo in my alphabetical list. I sat on the bed with him for an hour and a half watching Superbad and eating Macca's sundaes.

Eventually we hooked up. The entire time I was waiting for a text from R to ask me to go home so I could unlock the door for her (she was with her new boy also). As soon as I got the text I gave him a couple more kisses and headed home. I think he got kind of upset to be honest...

I really can't decide if I'm attracted to him at all or not. He's pretty cute, and nice, and funny... but...

I guess I was just so attracted to Sparky that I still kind of wish I was seeing him. But I know that if I did; I'd get bored after a day or two.

I'm just a bitch like that.


Oh well... ner ner ner ner ner...


My brain is tired so I'm going to put it to bed.
Night little ones


~ UPDATE ~

I am now adding to the list of Sparky's cousins/friends who are still trying to get a bit of the action.

There's already his cousin who lives out of town who sings to me.
And of course his cousin's best friend Paintball Guy.
And now there's another cousin; with the same first name and slightly better bone structure. Let's just call him... Sparky 2.

Sparky 2 somehow got my number and started messaging me.

As did 2 Scary Old Roofing Dudes who left their number on my garage door a month ago.

And some random I don't even know. I swear to God my number must be on list for weird horny men to call. I just want to yell at them all

'I AM CLEARLY NOT A PHONE-SEX OPERATOR, YOU FOOLS!!!'

Also : Replied back to Sparky for the first time since the hotel yesterday. He invited me to his mate's free house on Saturday. Romantic, no?

Too bad there is NO WAY I would rather spend my night in bed at a strange guys house with someone I don't really like (except for entertainment purposes); than out with my roommate as we dance our pretty little asses off and drink beverages we didn't pay for.

Ah, boys are so naive... 
;)

I Get My Nina On and Tacos. Lots of Tacos

So I finaaaaaaaaaaaaaally got to go out clubbing thanks to a friends friend who kindly lent me her ID. I am now '19' going on 20 in August (which is perfect as my awesome friends M and R are actually that age; and a lot of the rest of them are a bit older).

Although I've discovered that the full time party-life doesn't agree AT ALL with my immune system (especially when combined with working all day); it was FUCKING WORTH IT ! I may restrict my goings out to only 2 or 3 nights in a row from now on...

After my first weekend out, I was sick all week - and only just made it to work on the weekend (and the public holiday we had yesterday - can anyone say DOUBLE TIME !!). I did also make time for a good friends 21st out in town (club club club); and a more chilled out 18th.

Random fact - both of those boys names start with the letter J.

Anywho; my friend (who is another boy who starts with J) has decided that in the future my boy finding ways need to start making sense. Which - in a world where I am only attracted and attractive to liars and jerks - means not finding good boys; but putting the various dickheads into some sort of vaugley amusing order.

So we came up with the alphabet.
M (Sparky) - 21 years old
N (I'll tell you about him in a second) - 20 years old
~then I need to find boys whose names start with~
O (19 years old)
P (18 years old)

But that's as young as I'm going, because I refuse to hook up with someone the same age as me! I don't know, guess I'm just one of those girls who hates guys my own age, and knows that they (of all ages) are all dickheads anyway - but would prefer to be fucked over by someone with a little more experience at lying so I can pretend to be all naive and innocent and such.

So I guess some of you are wondering who N-20yo is? Well, here is the answer.
He is the ex-boyfriend of the sister of J-who-turned-21. And to make matters more confusing I met J-who-turned-21's sister and really liked her. In fact, I may take her up on her offer, and go out clubbing with her this weekend. I guess it's a good think I'm not really that keen on him. My friends (M&R who I usually go out with, and who are respectively almost 20 themselves) think he's really hot. Personally I don't see it. I think he's good looking, and a nice kid - but I'm really not that attracted to him. He's probably actually a nice guy, and that is probably why I'm not interested.

Ah the female brain. I really don't understand it. Especially my own.


After eating some dodgy spag bol, I am now laid up in bed all sick and shit yet again (but my brain is going - FUCKING LET ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE HOLY FUCK I AM SO SO SO SO BORED). Hopefully I will be able to drag my body (which is totally letting me down at the moment, if I do say so) to school tomorrow. Note to the obvious, being sick sucks major donkey balls.

And in my head the 'major donkey balls' bit sounded like in those old westerns where it all sounds like 'majer donkay bawwwwwlls'.

Also, I am very very happy with the fact that my boys from last year (no, not all the boys I saw - all my friends from the year above who so cruelly graduated and left me with only my year and the year below to keep me company) have restarted Taco Night.

Taco night is where we eat Tacos and Burritos with a large group of people (of which I am almost always the only girl); and watch TV, occasionally smoke flavoured tobacco through a Shisha Pipe (and no I am not talking about Mary Jane - I have never and hope to never let her enter my airways) and almost always end up doing something crazy and stupid. Whether it be yelling at the coppers who are staying to guard a politician staying in our hosts apartment block, drawing giant penises on every available surface with ever available substance or egging security cars with large scary,baton wielding men inside them. Taco Night is always beautiful fun though.

New Taco Night is now on Wednesdays (so we can watch Jersey Shore), as opposed to Tuesdays. But apart from that (and the lack of Shisha Pipe due to the absence of the German who brings it with him; as he is selfishly traveling the world instead of supplying us with delicious Apple Tobacco); it is just the same, and equally as brilliant as ever.

That's all I can think of to update you with my little ones.

If I think of more I will probably think about posting it, and then not be bothered.

Muchos Amores (I hope that means much love)



Me :)

ps
For those of you wondering what happened to Sparky, I kind of stopped talking to him after the hotel. I figured he'd peaked. I mean, what if he wasn't as good the next time. Wouldn't want to disappointed would I?
Told you I'm a bitch. Good thing you all love me though, isn't it?

Sheets, Stars and Good Sex

I am tres tres sorry for my legnth of non-posting time. Sorry ma petie chous; it will not happen again.
And neither will my shockingly bad attempt at French.

Also apologies for my miniature post today. I have just written an essay we were given three weeks ago in about 2 hours, so I can go out for coffee tonight and still make tomorrows deadline. Needless to say, I am one brain-fucked chicken.



School is back, and in some ways it's like I never had a holiday. The workload is already killing me (although I take the easiest courses available in college... go figure); and so are the multiple cigarettes I get plied with every day. Sometimes I get a little depressed when I think of the sheer numbers of friends I had last year (almost all of whom left after completing their final year); but then I realise that I'm just grateful I'm not out there working my ass off full time.

But don't worry ma petites, I'm still the crazy adventuring Dora-the-Explorer-cum-Party-Girl I once was. Except my partying these days is restricted to (free) dinners (courtesy of Buffest's connections in the resteraunt and dining world); and private hotel room parties (if you catch my drift). Let's just say on the subject of my latest encounter with Sparky; the most I wore was a hotel room sheet as I took a drag of a nightime cigarette on a dark balcony - and the sex was literally bed-movingly good (like a-metre-on-carpet movingly-good). Best of all, it was all paid for by him, it was about 30 seconds drive from work the next day, and I didn't even have to make a bed or sneak out in the morning.

Life is fucking beautiful sometimes.

Hopefully there will be a gathering or two on this weekend so I can endulge in a little of my old party-hearty ways; and make some new memories to share with you all.


For now,
But definitley not forever.

xx

Silver Fucking Linings

The return to school has been slightly more glamorous and less lonely than I thought. I guess it turns out that I know a lot more people in my year than I thought I did. I still miss all my friends (who were in the year above) though. A heck of a fucking lot.

My ex's little brother is now at my college, but I have to fucking thank whoever invented the public school system and packed it to full capacity - because hopefully I won't actually ever have to talk to him due to the sheer size of our school.

The glamorosity has been due to the fact that we're now top dogs; and I've never experienced this before. I guess moving schools a shitload means you never really get to be top of the pile.
But now that I am; I find that it has it's advantages. So I walk around school, eating pizza Shapes like a badass and all the little Levies (Year Elevens) just look at me all scared-like and move out my way.

I guess there are always silver linings.


A new revelation has come to me at last.
I am now almost 100% sure that I only attract

a) dickheads
b) males who have seriously over inflated egos
c) guys who are taken
d) liars

Good good.

Recently found out that Sparky (formerly known as lover) is actually one of the biggest liars I've ever met. And not in a bad way (if that makes sense); just in a weird one. He told me he was a year younger than he is (he in fact turned 21 a week or so ago), he told me wrong last name (not that it matters - I can't remember the real one or the fake one anyway); and he may or may not have or have had a girlfriend (at least when I started seeing him).

Goooooood.

Still; I won't fuck him off. He knows I know his name and age now; and he's actually giving me more attention. Which for an attention-whore like me; means that the lies cancel out. Except for the girlfriend thing. But I don't now about that. And I'm not going to fuck off a perfectly good supplier of cigarettes and good sex on the pretence of a rumor.
I guess I'm just a bitch like that.



In other, boy related news.

My Griffith Boyfriend (he's a sweetie, but not my type - but seeing as he lives so far away, there's no point me rejecting him, so I play along) is going to the big concert I'm going up to Sydney in April with Barbie.

I'm pretty fucking excited for it - but this could really make it shit. As we're sposed to be staying with a whole lot of friends including Paintball Guy in what I hope is going to be a nice apartment (and some of those friends include Barbie's Current Man, and a cousin of Sparky - who is so nice that I can't even scab off him. Not that he can't afford it, the sweet bastard (from now on known as Buffest) offered to fill up my car and buy me cigarettes, saying that it was only like a hundred bucks. Which, of course, to the rich and generous; is nothing).

Buuuuut if I'm still seeing Sparky, and end up going on this pre-Valentines-Day date with Paintball Guy - AND see Griffith Boyfriend when I'm up there; things could get reaaaaally akward. Seeing as the Griffith Boyfriend is also cousins with Sparky; so I'm sure Buffest is related to him as well. And I took Buffest's kiss virginity the other night. Granted it was just a kiss on the cheek - but I probably shouldn't have. Damn you, attention whore-ish-ness.



Seriously ... what is with every single boy that messages me, and snuggling?

They always, ALWAYS ask me if I want to; or if I will when they come into town.
If they want to fuck, they could at least be up front. Snuggling just sounds wrong when a 20 year old says it. It's like a 45 year old asking if I'll let them have a nap.



Still; I'm fucking excited to be going up to Sydney with Barbie; even if we don't end up staying with the boys and do run into Griffith Boyfriend and his mate (who's conventiently enough in love with Barbie), it will still be fucking amazing.
Too bad it's like 2 months away...

Also, I've decided that I want a new, latin lover next. Because even if he's not as drop dead fucking gorgeous as some of my ex flingees; his sexy accent and smokin' smile will still kill me. After all, a Latino's are known for their passion and romance. And all I need is for one (pretty) Spanish boy to decide his new passion is me ;) .

If he looks ANYTHING like this, bonus points!



Eurgh. I'm confused, my whole head feels heavy, my stomach is way too full for my diet to be liking - and I think I'm coming down with something.

Til soon(er or later) guys and girls.


Love you all
 ♥

Draft

Dear Devoted Readers (ha ha)

My many sincerest (ha ha) apologies for not writing sooner.
Or at all for that matter.

I am here today to rectify the situation - and hopefully you can understand why my posts have been so few and far between of late (or in fact so few at ALL).

Firstly because I am one of the laziest people ever to walk the face of the Earth. Secondly because I have been incredibly busy; and thirdly, because I do not have a computer of my own; and the other member of our family who uses the computer (so rudely, as she has her own laptop, and just can't be fucked to climb the stairs and go to it) has been robbing me of valuable blog-writing time. At least at times of the day when my brain is not shut down entirely (which is most of the time at the moment, to be honest). Here is my week babes and babe-keteers (honestly, the things my brain thinks up whilst running on -10 hours of sleep, and donut-induced nausea). Hope it satisfies your blog-thirst.

Basically, I have been working. Almost every day. Overtime. Way way way too hard.
By myself. And at a level of responsibility and superiority that is probably not wise to trust me with; as I am more than apt at fucking everything up.

But they are pretty desperate I suppose.

I can now
- open the store
- close the store
- bank (carrying over 3 grand in CASH by myself to the bank; just a touch daunting. And a wonderful point at which I celebrated my 1.5 week employment-versary...)
- train and supervise other staff members
- do most of the management stuff

Pretty good for 2 weeks? Trusting mother f*ckers.

But that's enough shop talk (ha ha ha). Let's just say that if I went into proper detail, you lot would be easily as sick of it all as I am.
And that's like, terminally ill.

I should be in respite care, almost defintely.


In other news, I have decided to demote   Lover   to   Sparky  . Frankly, he doesn't make enough effort; and I need to find someone who will actually bother to chase me once in a while. Even if they know without much shadow of a doubt, they're getting a root for their troubles. Ah - the rudeness and lack of chivallry of the gentlemen of today still sucks. I thought getting naked would at least get me a massage or a nice dinner once in a while.

Blergh, who am I kidding?


A friend from the past (let's just call him Wog Boy, or WB for short) has been visiting me almost every day at work (and by visiting I mean; listening to me whinge about work as he helps me put away stock, do rubbish runs and generally stave off boredom). My manager K even lets him come into the store at night and help us do final close. The sad thing is that he probably does half our work, but all he gets in return is me flinging insults in his direction.

I guess my company makes up for it though :)

Oh  I almost forgot - and I SWEAR this is the last work related thing I'll say - K is pregnant and therefore leaving (aka it was her LAST DAY TODAY)... PERMANENTLY! So I'm going back to school a little late so that we can get the shop running okay before I can't be there every day. But we still won't have a manager. So basically we're fucked.
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY, work is awesome.

Anyway, WB has managed to get a crush on pretty much everyone I work with. And I feel slightly awful because most of them have older boyfriends. And he thinks the fact that he's a big muscly Greek dude will get him all the bitches.

Nay, WB, nay.

It's really strange though, because I've known a couple of the girls for a long time, and him for longer; and they think HE is pretty.
But he's just WB  to me.

But yeah, I said I'd return the favour and visit him at work on one of my day's off.
0 out of 3 isn't that bad.
But considering he comes into town (which is only like a couple of blocks away to be fair) even when he's not working, so he can pop by to see me after the gym; I kind of feel bad.

And he did get me free passes to the gym where he works; so I could come visit him legitimiately.

Being lazy is such an awful vice when it affects others.
But totally, TOTALLY a beautiful one if you're the lazy shit sitting on your ass.



To be honest I've been totally lacking in the interesting stories department. The only other real development is that I totally killed my diet.

I've been overindulging (like, SUPERSIZE ME overindulging) on every deep fried, calorie rich, sugar or salt drenched morsel (or five) that come my way.


Who fucking cares, it's hot as tits outside, so with any luck I'll either sweat all the kilos off or die in a bushfire.

And the sad thing is that it's hot as tits, at 2am. No wonder the insomnia is coming back like a boomerang to the eye cavity.
And for those of you who don't understand that simile; a boomerang is a traditional hunting weapon of the Aboriginal Australians - kind of like a bent stick that you throw at shit (thus killing or badly injuring it) which comes back to you after collecting a blow on your dinner. And it's a pretty fucking good simile because

a) It refers to my current location in a subtle yet amusing way
b) both boomerangs to the eye socket and lack of sleep would contribute towards a purplish tinge underneath and around the eye (granted one example is a black eye, and one just under-eye bags of the same hue)
c) It's 2am and I managed to write this post, with similes included; and hopefully few enough spelling mistakes that someone can actually recognize this as English

Seems like my life might just be getting back to normal (aka INSANE LAND OF LACK OF SLEEP). And now I must go and rest up and a get a whole 2 hours sleep before it all starts over again.

Pip pip good fellows, til the morn'.
Or whenever I can be fecked to post next.

x