Once again I'm furiously typing from the confines of a corporate empire posing as a coffee shop under the guise of duck egg blue paint and staff that are far too friendly given the miserable cunts they're pumping caffeine into. I think if I worked in a coffee shop I'd occasionally swap to decaf just to fuck shit up. Having a bad day at work? It's gonna be even worse now you just dished out £3.20 for a lukewarm liar. Ho ho ho.
I'm also feeling oddly liberated due to the fact I've decided to boycott my bra for the day under the safety of my christmas kitty jumper. However I currently feel like a trampoline. I pray to jebus I won't have to run at any point this evening, I don't think I'm quite ready to experience self inflicted whiplash. Though god knows it's a titting time bomb.
Alas, I've digressed on the subject of chesticles. I do however feel like I've gained an insight into the mind of a fifteen year old boy, all I need to do now is wear copious amounts of Lynxx Africa to mask the smell of awkward masturbation and I've basically nailed it.
Which they unfortunately won't be doing for another good few years. You're keeping the good people of Kleenex emplyed lads, let's wank away the recession!
The impossible has also happened, I've fallen even more in love with the sultry siren of the kitchen. Nigella Lawson, master of the muffins and lady of the lines (allegedly). I personally think it's given her a bit of an edge, or rather taken it off in her experience. I really do hope this marks the start of a narcotics nosh revolution. Jamie will show you how to make the most of your joint, Gordon will give you tips to inject flavour to your food and speed to your soul.
Come Dine With Me just took on a whole other dimension.
I on the other hand, am so socially shit that the closest I've ever really got to drugs is having one Beechams too many in the face of the winter sniffles. Someone call for an intervention quickly - I'm too sad to exist. But hey, who needs drugs when you can flash your vagina to your housemate while wearing a green wig solely with the help from good old Mr Gin. You can keep your crack!
And I can probably expose mine sometime within the near future.
I once again thank you for persevering with my nugget of narcassism and narcotics, stay beautiful you bastards. xo
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