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

'Cos I love su-u-ummer day-ays....

To those of you who aren't from the land of a big red rock called Uluru and the Sydney harbour bridge (and if you don't know what those are don't bother Googling them because they are just big things that we have in my country and aren't really that cool anyway); you may not have heard of Australian Hip-Hop. But just because you haven't, doesn't mean you shouldn't.

Note : I do not condone, appreciate or partake in any drug taking (other than nicotine and alcohol) - buuuuuut every stoner loves Aussie Hip-Hop. It's fucking funny as all hell whilst sober, and I've been told the funni-ness level increases the higher you get. Go figure.


Anyway .... moving on. Todays adventures anyone?

After waking up at the bright and early hour of 10am, getting ready and freaking out because it was 11:30 and I had work in an hour and I had to get to the city; somehow find a parking space, and make it to my first shift at the CBD store (scaaaaaaaaary) in less than that time. All without fucking up my hair, makeup or clothes.

When I got to work and parked in a frenzy, and then went down the billion escalators it took me to get to the top floor (where I work); I realised it was actually 10:30. The public school system = fail. Especially when it comes to teaching college kids how to read the time.

So I spent two hours smoking, eating MacDonalds and watching the clouds roll on by. I then made my way to the store, and was a bit taken aback by the amount of police officers in the area. And as I got closer I realised they were packed so tightly into the shop that they couldn't help spilling onto the corridor (okay, I might be exaggerating a little, but there were a good 5 or 6 coppers there; and it's not a big shop).

I entered to be greeted by a frazzled, yet still very friendly manager (K), who was the one that originally hired me; and our regional manager - who I shall from now on refer to as Eyebrow Piercing Dude (EPD). They both looked a little stressed, but not in too bad of spirits (on EPD's part this was probably because a couple of the officers wore their uniforms especially well ;) ). I didn't ask what had happened - but they told me anyway.

Don't you just love that about all fabulous gay men; they can't keep their fucking mouths shut when it comes to gossip and giving opinions on absolutely everything girl related. Except for vaginas. They usually just vomit copiously into the nearest vessel (or floor tile), when these parts of the anatomy are mentioned. Anyway...

Turns out, every single one of the CBD staff except me and K had gotten fired for shoplifting. Quite a tidy little venture, had they not been caught. Those girls surely moved over 3 grand of stock off the premises pretty quickly for (mostly) knocked-up dirty bitches. And that's me being polite.

Another note : I have very little respect for those who shoplift. And absolutley none at all for those who shoplift when the need isn't 100% desperate. And by desperate I mean 'my-family-will-starve-if-I-don't-steal-this-potato'; not 'I-am-so-bored-and-pregnancy-hormones-are-fucking-with-my-already-unsteady-mind-sooooooo-let's-steal-stuff'.

So the short and short of it is that I'm working almost every day for the rest of my summer holidays. Which is good because I get paid, but bad because I will go back to school
a) more tired than ever
and b) more pale than ever; as working indoors gets in the way of my tanning schedule in a major way

Also, this week I will be expected (after no more than 7 shifts at this new job, give or take) to singlehandedly run the store, open, close and do banking. By myself. Alone. All day.

Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeck!

<< A very accurate depiction of my place of employment

In other news.

As I was driving some friends to go clubbing (lucky bitches have ID's); we pulled up next to a car who drove next to us almost all the way to the city. 15 minutes into this little race (at the speed limit, of course); I realised the messages I was getting weren't from IBYFCB (who had come and visited me at work that day and not stopped messaging me since), Lover, or Paintball Dude. They were from Uteboy.

Uteboy is a 20 year old, and a fairly sad excuse for one at that. He was a lift-bitch (one whom I scabbed car rides home/to school with), as his work was close to my school, and he drove me around unpaid (and I mean... completely unpaid, if you catch my drift) for almost a year. And this includes times when I would ignore him for weeks at a time, and then message him and expect him to pick me up half an hour later because it was raining and I couldn't be fucked to catch the bus in the wet. I am totally lazy and a bitch, and I'm okay with it. Sort of.
But only because I only take advantage of penis carriers with not much humor or intellect also dwelling in the same body. And because God gave me boobies for a reason (if not just to get what you want, then what else? And don't say to feed children - because Udders would be way more effective for that and he gave us boobs instead).

And as it turns out, he was driving to the city in the car next to us, messaging me as we went along. He then later on proposed that I 'come out to the club' (he knows I'm not 18, way to rub it in); that I should come and give him 'a kiss', and that I should meet him in 'the carpark'. So... clearly a year has taught this boy nothing. If anything he should have learned that I will NEVER get with him (not that he's ugly, he's cute; just not in a bangable way), especially if it has nothing for me in it.  Boys with this little intellect seriously shouldn't be allowed out in public.

But that's just my opinion.

Seeing as Lover has been seriously sick for the past couple of days and snogging-fest-2011 has been postponed, I have been seeking out Paintball Dude. Or rather, replying in a nice fashion to his texts and messages.

It must be stated that I am showing attention ONLY so that I can go see a free movie, and have free coffee and a laugh. I'll leave all shagging and snogging up to Lover (once he's no harbouring longer an illness waiting to jump into my nasal cavity). Just in case you thought I was going soft and not being a cold, hard bitch.

So, out of boredom and lonliness (and spite that I'm the ONLY ONE OUT OF EVERYONE EVER INVENTED that doesn't have an ID or 18 years under my belt), I decided I would take the poor guy up on his most recent offer. and meet up with Paintball Dude.

This was regardless of the fact that I knew perfectly well that I was supposed to see him on Friday and Saturday night and go on two seperate dates within those two days; and that whenever he talks for more than 30 seconds uninterrupted my brain totally shuts down and I am unable to do anything more than smile and nod occassionally.

I'm sure he's a really funny guy. I just can't be bothered listening.

So me and Paintball Dude chilled for a couple of hours (til 12:30... ooooooops), doing nothing but smoking (me, mainly) and talking (him, mainly). And then he went home, an hour and a half later than he'd told his totally strict Croatian father he was on his way home. I'm sure that wen't down REEEALLY well... hehe ;).

So I probably will be dateless due to PD's probable groundedness for the next couple of nights (seriously who grounds their almost 19 year old son these days?!), but it does mean I'll have more time to blog. Not that anyone reads this drivel anyway
:)




Love from the Cold Hard Bitch (who really is just warm Milo on the inside, with extra marshmallows).
Be good... but if you're too good, you get a spanking anyway. Because that's just way more fun than a choccy biccy and warm milk.

And Some Days ...

I have days where everything I do and say is fucking exciting and/or hilarious (at least that's how I feel), and I squeeze through all sorts of little scrapes; with only a bruise or the slightly blurry memory to remind me of it - as I drink to the adventure later on; a refreshing beverage in hand, and in the company of some close pallies.

Or when I sit there remembering those times with all the crew at a party, hot and sweaty (but still fabulous) after dancing in heels and little dresses for hours, feet aching like we've walked a thousand miles and our whole body calling for sleep (which incidentally will never come).

Then I have other days - like today - where the most exciting thing I do is go to the shops and buy a packet of cigarettes and some sushi and drive home complaining to myself about how shit life is etc. etc.

People in other cars even stare at me like I'm a loony-escapee who just escaped out of a loony-bin; as I complain to myself (often times out loud), driving along. Today a little kid even pointed at me. I yelled at him through the glass, "So now you're the only one allowed to have an imaginary friend?!?!?! F*#%ing Ageism these days! Not young enough to harmlessly console myself out loud, but not old enough to drown my sorrows in loud music and drunken boys at a night club?!?!?! Where, oh baby Jesus, is the compassion in this world!".

Luckily (or unluckily, as the case may be); this small child did not hear my words, as their parents drove off; and I'm pretty sure I wasn't yelling loud enough to penetrate two layers of glass. However, I will content myself with the fact that the child in question -

a) now is perfectly oblivious to the world of teenage angst they will come to befriend in a mere 12 or 13 years

b) will be too afraid to leave the safety of their parents watchful supervision as they may be attacked by a Passion-Fruit-resembling-loony; and thus have self-taught themselves about 'Stranger Danger'

and c) , even if they could hear what I was saying, I doubt it would make any sense to their 3 year old brain.


And that was my totally beautiful and interesting day.

The only other highlight was getting more or less ignored by current lover-boy.
Earth to Lover :
I'm not looking for an in-depth conversation, an engagement ring or even a BOYFRIEND. All I want is a snog (ok I lie, a shag) and someone to share a cigarette with. For god's sake he doesn't even have to supply the cigarette!

Time to find a new one me-thinks. God knows how I managed to pick him out of all the other stupid girl-obsessed Italians running around. In fact, I've been warned off them before by a (possibly-homosexual-pending-further-enquiry) male friend; who had this to say on the topic of men of this ethnicity.

" Never go for those boys. all they want is for you to make them pasta, buy a BMW, become a so called 'Catholic', be dodgy and wear filthy Adidas clothing and have mullets... " ~ E

Wise, wise words. Why did I not listen...
Better still, why didn't I manage to find one who would have had a BMW. There would at least have been a point to shagging him then...


I guess, if I actually listened to E's advice, I might have learned something. And that is something we definitely couldn't have.

Chin up little ones, I'm sure I'll be back to fabulousity soon enough.
x

 ** UPDATE **

Dear Munchkins,

I decided to revisit and revise this post, as it was thoroughly boring and utterly shit-house.

I thought I might actually finish this post off by telling you a story about the boy I am going on a date with this weekend. He shall be known as Paintball Guy, as he works at a Paintball Range and enjoys dressing me up in his Paintballing gear.

We met one night a month or so ago, in a dark and lonely time when the lover was away at the coast (irresponsible boy that he his left me by myself for New Years as well - so I just kissed someone else at midnight ;) ). It was one boring night, and my best (straight) guy mates (we will call him Triton, after his awesome ute I sometimes drive) was just chilling at his house, whilst his whole family was up in QLD working on their house up there (his Dad own's a building company that he also works in). Their house is quite fucking amazing, it has two stories in brick and wood, with a deck/balcony complete with fully built-in BBQ area and sunk in swimming pool.

So this one night me and two of my friends went over (Barbie the stunning blonde besty I've had for years and years, and one of my other reallllllly good friends M who is also a total babe) and had a BBQ and a swim with Triton as his friends from his old school (all boys school may I add).

As I was driving, and Barbie doesn't drink, we were just being our normal selves (which is probably not that normal), and M was getting a little tipsy, with some of the boys joining her. However, we were controlling ourselves fairly well; and after chilling in the pool for a couple of hours we got out and ate and (the boys and I) smoked.

By this point (lets just call him...... Paintball Guy) was fairly drunk. And a couple of the other boys were on their way there. They were all very nice though, and as a matter of fact Barbie is going on a date with another one of them sometime in the new future as well. Once everyone else went inside, only me and Paintball Guy were outside with his friend Wombat Boy (because his nickname sounds like wombat, and he resembles one), chuffing some cigarettes and eating steak.

Paintball Guy somehow got it in his head that rapping/singing to me in pretty awful Croatian would be a good way to woo me (I suppose), but all it really achieved was the feeling of breaking all my ribs in silent laughter with Wombat Boy. I don't even speak Croatian and I could tell he was both tone deaf and shit at his national tongue. After a couple of songs, he asked me if I would go to the movies with him - and mainly out of pity I found myself agreeing. Also because if I didn't he might not have let me dress up in his Paintballing gear, and that would have been a TRAGEDY (it seemed like a good idea at the time)!

"Heck, I figured, he probably wouldn't remember it by the next morning!" I reasoned to myself.

I was very, very wrong. Not only did he remember; he told all the boys I asked HIM out! Luckily they all realised he was talking shit; and pissed themselves laughing the next night when they told me of this little 'development' at 12am in the Macca's carpark. I almost inhaled my lit cigarette up my left nostril, that's how hard we were all laughing!

He messaged me for a couple of days, until the day when we were supposed to have our date (coincedentially the same day Lover came back); but messaged me on the day saying that he was grounded and couldn't make it. I had been trying to get out of it by making it seriously akward, and was quite pleased with the result at the time.

However, when he messaged me tonight and asked if we could go out this weekend, it was a Hallelujah moment. I've been feeling so alooooone recently, it was nice that someone wanted to see me.

Well, a male someone. And he doesn't even expect me to fuck him! So I'm going, and bollocks to all those little voices in the back of my head telling me it's a bad idea.

Hope that this has made your reading slightly more less boring and depressing.

Muchos Loveeeeeeee Amigos

How To Catch A Pony

Dear Readers

Today, instead of entertaining you with a hilarious anecdote of my latest and greatest stunts and achievements, I thought I might distract you with a fully illustrated guide to catching ponies - to disguise the fact I am indeed far too lazy to write a half-decent post.

Please take this 'advice' with a warning, and a grain of salt. Ponies are mischevious and devilsome little creatures who would probably rather walk across hot coals than do any form of work (and the main objective once they are caught is often to exercise them). They will avoid being caught at almost any cost.

The only way to lure them in is with bait, preferably a carrot, apple or bucket of horse pellets.

However, the tricky little sh*ts will often eat it and f*ck off, with only a kick in your direction for your troubles.

Be careful the kick in your direction doesn't turn into a couple of hours in the ER and several days bedrest with a broken face.

It would probably be better to just ignore my instructions completely and never go near a pony; but that wouldn't be fun or adventurous (or distracting) would it.


Pip pip good fellows, and bon voyage for the wherever todays adventures take you.

p.s

I will probably blog tomorrow, whingeing of sunburn and the like - as I am going to the pool; and my near-albino skin doesn't react well to sunlight. But don't let me tell you I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

The same thing happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to the pool; and I never learn.

Oh well.

x

Shit Gets Serious

And I'm sorry guys, but it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to. Even if it's my fault and I know exactly what I've done wrong as a responsible and consenting adult individual of age. And I bet almost everyone out there will want to kick me in the head for being a stupid teenage girl, who is having a whinge for being stupid teenage girl.

I'm so used to having the upper hand that it fucking scares me so much when someone has it over me. The only problem is that it makes me want that person quite a bit more. I've had a fair share of boys. Only slept with one or two; and haven't really done much with anyone else. But it's not for lack of opportunity. It's not even for lack of opposition on their parts. It's just mine.

I don't have a problem at all with other people having sex with a lot of people. It's just me, myself and my own lady parts.

One of the girls I work with is an adult; and she's had boyfriends. Many. Long term ones even, and older ones at that. But she's still a virgin. I almost wish that I had her self control. But then again, I really don't. I like having sex. It's fun and I always feel like I'm doing something good for my body. Exercise is good for you after all.

The only problem is that before the current lover, I'd only had sex with my ex-boyfriend. And he was very attentive; in fact he barely left me alone. I never trusted anyone who showed too much interest after that. Didn't want to make the same mistake again. And somehow it seems I've made the same mistake of picking the wrong guy again, but worse. I've started fucking someone who's actually the exact same person as me. Just with some balls and a dick where the tits should be. Not exactly the same spot... but still.

And funnily enough my attention-whore self really doesn't like tasting my own medicine.

Oh well. It's not like I'm going out with or married to the SOAB (Son of a bitch). I can just as easily forget his pretty little Italian ass and go find something even tastier. Even though the sex is pretty decent. I guess I'll just find someone who wants more than a booty call, and save my current lover for when I'm feeling extra-specially lonely.

That sounded slutty. But what doesn't these days? Jesus even Macca's sounds slutty. 'I'm lovin' it'? Now, that sounds like you're a Kings Cross Hooker looking for an extra tip.

Also, unrelatedly. Me and my little brother just rescued one of these.

It's a striped marsh frog, and the source of the mysterious croaking noise coming from under our Christmas tree. But now it's outside and hopped away after a little convincing my ferocious attack terrier (aka oversized slightly overweight canine white rat-resembling pet).

So chin chin good chaps, and top of the morning to you.
Or evening. Whatever.

x

The Reason I Am Currently Brain Dead and Uninteresting :)

Dear Readers (not that there are many of you - but regardless),

I must apologize sincerely for being completely f*cking boring. It is because I started work yesterday, and my body and brain (six months out of work) have been completely f*cked over by lack of sleep + a 9 hour shift.

This is what my brain now looks like:

Let's just say he's not happy. Will write when it gets a little more contented.

Also, don't unfollow me because of the swearing. It's a side effect of serious sleep deprivation. Google it if you don't believe me.

Love and pancakes

xx