Technology really is extreme. I am able to blog in my bath with bubbles and joy. Although it’s probably not for the best as my phone could drop into the dark depths of the tub any moment and die instantly. However, for now I’ve decided it’s worth it.
Turns out I didn’t get around to tidying my room, and oh look there’s my chipped nail varnish still clinging on. It’s fine though right, I’ve still got another few hours?
I’m off out later with some friends for a few drinks and good conversation. Which will probably develop into an excessive amount of drinks, maybe a solemn girl crying, many lads eating kebabs, and dancing in a club where the beauty isn’t in the eye of the holder, but in the eye of the beer holder.
I do have work for about twelve hours tomorrow, but it’s so totally worth being in a grump for the whole day, to enable me to witness drunken antics of my very own dear friends. (Note, I have said previously they are intelligent, but it doesn’t mean they don’t know how to make a bleddy good night out) then revolving around me on a Friday lunchtime and evening of trying to serve people food when you look like you’ve been hit by a bus.
– Also starting to realise my writing style is like a very bad version of Helen Fielding in her fabulous Bridget Jones novels. Maybe I’m the not the next impressive, witty authoress but just the resemblance of her character Bridget…