Men are such a strange species. I mean earlier he was laying on my bed digging out his ear with a cotton bud, then announced 'I could make a candle out of all this wax!' before showing me the contents of his ear where I promptly gagged. Ah, intimacy.

At least yesterday was brilliant, involving the World's End, a meal at Henry J. Bean's (I had a mushroom burger, which wasn't a burger at all but in fact slices of mushroom and salad in ciabatta bread - fucking lovely), and Jongleurs (the Camden town one), before coming back where I drunkenly sang the Darknesses' Christmas song to all the people waiting for trains at King's Cross and then we hijacked the first class section of the train home because all the standard seats were taken. Unfortunately some woman obviously thought the seat she was sitting in was a good place to throw up, much to the amusement of everyone else. She grabbed my hand as her bloke helped her stagger off at Hatfield and so I had to run down the length of the train to find a toilet in order to wash any sick residue off. Ugh.

It would appear we ARE going out tonight. Only we're staying in Stevenage. But that also means I'm going to miss the Pop Idol final. Bolloques.

previous | next