... Sorry, busy bopping to the sounds of John Mayer (incidentally, whose babies I would very much like to have) and I kind of forgot that opening this window means I have to write something.

Almost all of the people who read the last entry came from unknown places, which freaks me. Mainly because the thought of someone suddenly materialising out of the void in any situation is more than a little pause-giving, but also because:

Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me

'Nuff said.

I am getting antsy at the thought of having to leave checkoutchicking to move on to bigger better more well paying ... more respectable things.

I think I have a crush on a guy from Oporto's... which I hate saying, because even my head at the moment is saying "Oh Babs, no... how much lower can you go?" ... not putting down the guy, necessarily, just my spurious crush habits.

I think he's good looking, is all. And he smiles at me and I smile back and ... it's all weird and flirty somehow.

I think I should give up guys (or guy thoughts and/or obsessions, as close to guys as I am ever going to get in this crazy way) for Lent.

Except that, Lent is a good... number of months away. And where would that leave me anyway? Converting to lesbianism? I'm sure I would find the same (if not greater) problems there. Maybe I could become asexual then. Like a mushroom! ... Are mushrooms asexual?

Let's hope so because have already half resolved on becoming a mushroom. Shouldn't be too difficult considering at the slow rate my life is going, I am already automatically considered to be in a vegetative state...

So there we go. Have resolved to find a new, non-boy focus to my life. But what else is there? Should I be focusing my life on my school work? Well, of course I should, but the point is I'm not gonna. The mere suggestion alone makes me giggle to the point of tears.

I could concentrate on myself, I suppose, instead of ignoring me all the time like I do now. But there's a reason for that, which is ... I'm u:gly (spoken form= oooooooooogly). I mean, my thighs alone could feed a family of four whose plane had crashed on the himalayas and keep them alive until rescuers found them months later.

And that's just the beginning...

Maybe I should take this time to hide or unugly the ugly. Or even, and here's a wacky notion, I could learn to live with it and appreciate it for the ugly it isn't.

Maybe that's going a bit too far. But at least it's a start.

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