2002-12-15 - 7:26 p.m.
It's hot.
And my mother keeps nagging me to write our Christmas cards... if you happen to hear on the radio that someone is being rushed to hospital because they attempted to stab themselves with a pen, you'll know it's me.
Misaddressed mail... what are you supposed to do with it? Because we got a letter to a nonexistant street today, but it landed in our letterbox because the non-existant street was spelled almost like our street.
Not that this was an ordinary letter, mind you, no no. My parents opened it despite me tut-tutting them earlier and telling them "No!" and it turned out to be Bronwyn Bishop's application to become a member of the Australian Jockey Club.
Which is like, huh, you can be a member of that without being a jockey? That sounds wrong. And, if you're not Australian, this is Bronwyn Bishop. So yeah, she's a politician lady.
I'll probably just end up mailing it to her office but any suggestions for crazy hijinks will be duly considered.
Work today... something something. No former-melty-hair-boy, a few happy incidents with people but nothing worth recalling to you. Although that won't necessarily stop me recalling them to myself...
Christmas is looming like some mugger awaiting to knock me out, steal my purse, and overall just give me a really bad headache. Did I say like? Scratch that, Christmas is a mugger.
I say we change tradition this year and take all the money we'd normally spend on others and spend it on ourselves. C'mon, who's with me? Me, for one, because that would mean an extra $300 for me ... which is basically "colour me foaming at the mouth".
I need a boy. And I need to exfoliate. One of those needs is definitely pressing but I'm not sure which one anymore.
Cousin's wedding in less than a week, urgh. If only my distant relatives didn't know me I could maybe get away with sticking a sign on myself proclaiming "I'm mute!" and parking self in front of food. Of course, if my relatives didn't know me, there wouldn't actually be a need for the above. Damn circular solution.
Well, I should go because if nothing else, I've run out of things to say.
Although that hasn't ever stopped me before.
And my mother keeps nagging me to write our Christmas cards... if you happen to hear on the radio that someone is being rushed to hospital because they attempted to stab themselves with a pen, you'll know it's me.
Misaddressed mail... what are you supposed to do with it? Because we got a letter to a nonexistant street today, but it landed in our letterbox because the non-existant street was spelled almost like our street.
Not that this was an ordinary letter, mind you, no no. My parents opened it despite me tut-tutting them earlier and telling them "No!" and it turned out to be Bronwyn Bishop's application to become a member of the Australian Jockey Club.
Which is like, huh, you can be a member of that without being a jockey? That sounds wrong. And, if you're not Australian, this is Bronwyn Bishop. So yeah, she's a politician lady.
I'll probably just end up mailing it to her office but any suggestions for crazy hijinks will be duly considered.
Work today... something something. No former-melty-hair-boy, a few happy incidents with people but nothing worth recalling to you. Although that won't necessarily stop me recalling them to myself...
Christmas is looming like some mugger awaiting to knock me out, steal my purse, and overall just give me a really bad headache. Did I say like? Scratch that, Christmas is a mugger.
I say we change tradition this year and take all the money we'd normally spend on others and spend it on ourselves. C'mon, who's with me? Me, for one, because that would mean an extra $300 for me ... which is basically "colour me foaming at the mouth".
I need a boy. And I need to exfoliate. One of those needs is definitely pressing but I'm not sure which one anymore.
Cousin's wedding in less than a week, urgh. If only my distant relatives didn't know me I could maybe get away with sticking a sign on myself proclaiming "I'm mute!" and parking self in front of food. Of course, if my relatives didn't know me, there wouldn't actually be a need for the above. Damn circular solution.
Well, I should go because if nothing else, I've run out of things to say.
Although that hasn't ever stopped me before.
