February 2012
I am actually strangely excited about downloading Everything is Illuminated because jewish Elijah Wood is excellent.
I am grumpy because there is someone playing Arkham City on my Xbox and it’s not me.
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I’m off to Soho tomorrow as part of a university trip. Which should be fun, although I can’t afford it and we have to hand in an assignment about it by like Friday and I’ll probably get kicked out for taking the piss. Considering making up horror stories about the size of some of the strap ons to freak out my male friends.
Why does doing important things to sort out my life have to involve:
Getting out of bed.
Showering.
Putting on clothes.
Leaving the house.
Outside may have light and fresh air but it doesn’t have the same appeal as this duvet.
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Off to London on Tuesday to go to Soho and look at sexy things for a university trip. These are the only trains that would get me in on time though, and just seeing these perfectly normal early times in the morning makes a lazy student sad.
The new GOT trailer makes me happy, but now I’m really undecided whether to read A Clash of Kings before the second series starts or not. Hmm.
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Less future prospects than all of you. Writing Contemporary Fiction. I’ve spent three years going ‘this book’s a bit shit,’ and watching lots of films in which everyone’s naked for some reason and the camera angle is always without fail zoomed into the dude’s ballsack. What can I even do with this university experience.
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My all-nighter turned into a “finish earlier than you normally go to bed,” which makes me feel like I’ve achieved even less. Oy vey. But my essay is done and I’ll fix it tomorrow and I’m as free as a Bob Dylan song.
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Day 67 The words are just blurring into each other. The word ‘porn,’ no longer has any meaning to it, which is just tragic. I feel I’ll never see dry land again, my sweetheart back home will never know how I feel…sometimes I travel to other cabins and beg my crewmates to shoot me, take me out of my misery. “It’ll be over soon!” they plead. It will never...
First all-nighter in third year. I don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to do this. But there’s a 2500 word essay in for tomorrow, and a certain someone which is me has to do it. Got caffeine pills and that slow sinking feeling that tonight’s going to be a long and horrible night.
There is lots of Placebo on my dash, which makes me happy. So I try to find favourite song on Placebo tag. Only find a million copies of ‘Pure morning,’ and people thinking they’re artistic by taking photos of bottles of tablets then photoshopping Placebo lyrics on top. You’re not artistic. Stop it. Stop with the fucking sepia.
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I have two hours to add 2449 words to this. Articulate, well-constructed words. And sentences. Fuck sentences man, I’m going to write this entire essay in a haiku.
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Given up spending money for lent. This shouldn’t be too hard, as I have no money to spend anyway.
Okay bye guys I’m off to go debate whether pornography is destroying the fabric of our society and leaving people unable to function in relationships. Spoiler alert. It isn’t.
Okay, there is no need to be sad because it’s PANCAKE DAY. And I’m going to go out and buy sugar and lemon and ice cream, and then just end up compulsively eating the ice cream out of boredom. I met someone who didn’t like ice cream once, it destroyed my faith in humanity.
I’m worried about money, I’m struggling to keep up with my degree and my everything hurts. Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello.
I’ve just realised it’s pancake day tomorrow. Pancakes with sugar and lemon and vanilla ice cream, ohh yeah. This is happening.
mcdammit:
The Sterling Archer:
pour 3 oz of scotch in glass
add 6 gummi bears
act like an asshole
I need to stop going to the Doctors, they never give me good news. It’s always “do you not realise you’re really really sick?” That’s kind of why I came to you guys.
Today I have paid rent, bought my friend’s birthday present and paid for my ebay addiction over the weekend. This is the most productive I’ve been in 2012. This is also the most poor I’ve been in 2012.
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teendistorti0n replied to your post: Shisha pipes are all ridiculously gorgeous, I want…
im now looking at them online for the website of my local shop b/c theyre so pretty
They are so pretty, I see them a lot because I think I live in the valley of the stoners or something but I never get bored of them.
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You can tell you live in a certain kind of neighbourhood when:
The posh tobacconist offers sixteen different types of bongs and can tell you which flavoured tobacco would go best with weed.
Every corner shop within a miles radius sells bongs, pipes and king skins.
Your nearest grocery shop sells shisha pipes next to the fruit aisle.
Shisha pipes are all ridiculously gorgeous, I want them all.
Why am I looking at £5 gamecubes on Ebay. Why. I have no room. I don’t even know if I want a gamecube. So why do I keep watchin’ dem items like I’m genuinely serious about this? (I think I am I’m just confused because my brain didn’t consult me on this.)
Look at photo of yourself. Realise you have double chin. Cry while eating cookies.
So, who wants to write my ‘One man’s smut is another man’s sensuality,’ essay for me? It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a clue to write, because: a) Neither do I. b) The teacher’s never liked me, so whatever I write I’m going to do badly anyway, sigh. So who’s up for researching porn sites?
I think I’m going to eat lots of food and get incredibly obese. Then sit on everyone who doesn’t like me or who dares displease me. Feel the awesomeness of my flab, ya dicks.
The most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me was nicking a traffic cone for me (I was drunk and texted said person whining because my friend wouldn’t let me go steal a traffic cone from the electric fence it was behind and end up killing myself which was rather sensible of her) and bringing it to my room in halls way back when, stuffed with flowers and chocolate. Aw yeah.
I was having such a productive day, then I started buying things off ebay. NOT GOOD.