You know, I don't think he ever says these nice things about me.
A year and a half now of tragically limited boyfriend time. I want us to be unemployed students again but with jobs and money. Still, at least I can go for days on end without shaving my legs. And I can lie horizontally across the bed and adopt my ugliest sleeper pose in peace.
BONJELLA! AND BAZOOKA THAT VERUCA!
There�s a boy at work who is half Japanese and half Irish. He is my favourite and if it was up to me I would just trail about after him all day every day. He told me I can be the green Power Ranger. Today he built a house for a car and people were allowed to live on the roof. I find myself trying to distract him when he is sitting quietly listening. I want to balance things on his head. It�s inexplicable.
Yesterday on the way to work I was watching a bird watching me. It was pink and grey with petrol coloured wings. Today I saw it or one of its brethren/posse lying dead on some grass. It�s been playing on my mind all day. This is happening a fair bit recently. The other morning I dropped something on the floor before I left the house. For the entire day it was in my mind lying on the floor being saddened and alone. One half of me is saying shit in a shop it doesn�t matter, whilst the other half can�t leave it. This flabbergasting irrationality ensures that before I fall asleep I get up approximately 4 million times to close, check, move, and position things. I�m thinking it doesn�t matter that there�s no water there, it really, really doesn�t� ah fuck it I�ll get some to be sure. OF WHAT?! Exactly how awful is feeling a wee bit thirsty.
I need to fax London Underground lost property. Idiotically they do not have a phone number to ring. Idiots!
I feel like I should have something to say that�s in any way different to usual but I don�t think I can muster it. Last week I couldn�t muster the bother to engage with all the well established crazies with my usual pep and vigour. There�s one guy with very long black hair who was so badly trying to repeat his (long list of) music problems to me and I just brushed him aside with the weary air of the bitch, sorted out what I could and moved on. I strode past HORATIO LENIN and he looked sad and went to badger Tim. HAHA TIM SUCKER. Poor and bemused and not used to handling the powerful stench and beliefs of the man whose doctor told him he was the result of a monkey abortion (or something along these lines I can�t exactly remember).
Actually, remembering Horatio has made me feel all cheerful. I hope he�s in tomorrow.
There used to be a crazy that I hated called Mr Ward. Thankfully he moved to Nottingham. Today I was pretending to be him on the phone to M and said in my lecherous old moustached man voice �I�ll bear with you snigger snigger� At which point he told me that I was on speaker phone. This is why I would never condone speaker phones. They are a sick and torrid invention of the telephonically communicatively warped. It should be etiquette for someone to tell you that you are aloud in a room and I would hang up if I knew.
Soso, hanging up.