Thursday, 7 October 2010

Please, FTLOG Ignore This...

This post sits astride days like I across the lap of whatever passes for my moral compass at this time in the morning/stage of drunkenness/degree of being stoned as a vole.

Technically I shouldn't even be attempting to write but my arm has been twisted, so I give to you the...*checks clock*...daft past twat musings of a twenty year old girl upon returning from the house of a boy she blatantly - you know what, let's not go into that.

Firstly, the golden syrup sandwich I just made is delicious and secondly; this would be so much easier to achieve if the world wasn't tilting at a forty degree angle...I say forty because I can't recall if numbers are supposed to be hyphenated or not.

I have a question; Fate why are you taunting me?

After so many fucking years of charging me with rounding up all the complete cunts in the world (totally in order to compile a list for future sterilisation) you've seemingly hopped right off that 'bastard stool' and handed me somebody who manages to tick even the most obscure boxes.

[My male ideal came from vampire movies, comic books, fanfiction and one too many Black Lace novels whilst growing up...oh, and Eurotrash so we're drifting rapidly into the realms of 'completely fucking tapped' when attempting to form some kind of compatible companion.]

This is what makes the whole situation so entirely gutting...he's perfect and I'm just not good enough.

It's like the final kick in my metaphorical bollocks.

With that, I'm going to limp into my utterly unmade bed and pray to whoever is listening that I don't have a hangover tomorrow.

Annie.

<3

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