strawberrri.diaryland.com
Can you dig it?
2003-10-27 | 11:11 a.m.

My boyfriend is currently - to my knowledge - lying in my bed in a mood with me because he asked me to buy some apple juice to replace the carton he drank from the fridge the other night having no idea who it belonged to, and I refused. The fact that I don't pass any apple juice-selling shops on my way to, nor my way back from uni clearly isn't good enough. Logic, eh? Where would we be without it?

Our house party on Thursday night was about fifty-seven million times better than I ever thought it would be. There was a moment when for about an hour only three people had showed up and we were convinced that was going to be the entire turnout, but then throughout the evening another twenty or so appeared which caused me to relax and get drunk with glee. Someone stuck chewing gum on the bannister (which I think is still there - bye bye �100 deposit on house), several people puked in the toilet, one person puked IN TORI'S BED, and I consumed far too much vodka jelly, smoked a spliff and then decided the best thing to do would be to go to my room and pass out. It was good though.

The weekend consisted of writing an essay, getting drunk on a boat that had been turned into a pub and spending most of the day in bed Sunday.

Oh yes, two houses on my road have been completely gutted by fire in the same week. One week, one street, two independent house fires. I may not be Inspector Morse but that certainly looks a little more than suspicious, don't you agree?

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