strawberrri.diaryland.com
I'll never let him touch my heart
2004-11-02 | 1:20 p.m.

The man who keeps coming to our house, hammering on the front door then asking 'Do you know where the nearest hotel is?' came back yesterday. He also came back this morning and one of my housemates informed him this must be at least the tenth time he has come to our house and asked that SAME BLEEDING QUESTION and requested he didn't come back. I have no idea what he wants (a hotel would seem the likeliest answer only he's been looking for one for five weeks now. You'd have thought he'd give up on his fruitless quest). So I've narrowed it down to him either wanting to burgle us or befriend us.

And who wouldn't want a 40-ish drugged up stranger as their friend?

I am trying to get an essay done this week, which is not fun, although Saturday night was very fun indeed. About half the people in the club we went to were in Halloween attire and I spent a bit of time dancing with someone dressed up as a giant liquorice Allsort (the character's called Bertie Bassett if I remember correctly). Only someone I know ran off with his head and he was quite anxious to get it back.

Last night we had some people round and I was forced into a lengthy conversation I didn't want to have with someone I didn't know about astrophysics, Mensa (you may have an IQ of 150 but you're boring me shitless) and chess. All I have to say is thank God for wine.



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