Ramblings of the Outsane

People Really Said These Things In Court


Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July fifteenth.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.

Q: This myasthenia gravis - does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something that you've forgotten?

Q: All your responses must be oral, okay? What school did you go to?
A: Oral.

Q: How old is your son - the one living with you.
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.

Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that morning?
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.

Q: Sir, what is your IQ?
A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.

Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in the voodoo occult?
A: We both do.
Q: Voodoo?
A: We do.
Q: You do?
A: Yes, voodoo.

Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?

Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?

Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?

Q: Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?

Q: Did he kill you?

Q: How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?

Q: You were there until the time you left, is that true?

Q: How many times have you committed suicide?

Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?

Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?

Q: You say the stairs went down to the basement?
A: Yes.
Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?

Q: Mr. Slattery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?
A: I went to Europe, sir.
Q: And you took your new wife?

Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?

Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?

Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.

It was 6am. /6am/.

I woke up to screaming and shouting and honestly thought it was night. But it couldn't have been, because I'd only got to sleep at about 4.30. Or 5. Can't remember. But yeah, attempted to ignore it in my drowsy state and heard smashing and banging, so finally gritted my teeth and got up to sort them out. Them being the parents, of course.

See, when it comes to alcohol, they take on the mental status of children, so shouting poorly thought out insults "Fuuuck ooooff! Bitch from Heeeell!" and playground taunting "Uuuuugh, you can't even do /that/ properly! You're such a moron, can't do /anything/! Mummy's boy!" and of course throwing various inanimate objects around and at each other. (Not to mention at times themselves-see petty violence)

I deal with this so, /so/ very often. At times I simply hope they'll do their damage and settle down, whether it be into drunken stupors or exhausted deep sleep on the sofa. For my mother, the alcohol seems to be her undoing, whereas with Kjell..well, he's not the brightest bulb in the pack. A lot of her anger seemed to be aimed at me for the longest time, but since I'm the same height, if not width, of her, thing's have subsided slightly. Because really, I can't take any of that shit anymore.

Nope, now Kjell gets the brunt of it. She's an angry person, blame her life for that (Woman's had a hard life, I'll give her that) but she's not stupid. She knows alcohol does her no good, as do her methods of pain release. Taking it out on us is getting old.

Back to this morning, however. Went downstairs and found Kjell throwing alcoholic beverages out the window. Stools lying around, hoover (Or vacuum) lying in two pieces, a nice chunk out of the wall and alcohol...all over the floor and surfaces. Apparently it's hard to judge how big a gap exists between the window frames. Oh, and she'd slashed one of his tyres.

I went over to close the fridge and got pushed aside. Big guy. But he doesn't mean it. I got him to stop it in the end, so he went and locked himself in the lounge. Got mother to calm down and stop verbally attacking him. Gave them the rant about childish behaviour, and how sick I am of having to parent them all the damn time, how it's 6am, they've woken Chris up, what kind of examples are they setting, damages, blah blah blah. Least I can be grateful this isn't one of the worst episodes.

But 6am?

I am not, I repeat /not/, a morning person.

Grar.

_______________________

In other news, me and a friend drove around till we decided to go to Comb Gibbit. Picnic yadda yadda. Gorgeous day, had the blanket, beautiful view, gliders whizzing about in front of us for our visual amusement and of course the hanging death pole 5 meters to our right.

I hugged it. *Squee*

http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/england/berkshire/berkshire4.html

Would you be surprised to hear we got a few odd looks sunbathing there?

267 Pick-up lines 

I went through a site, found 267 of the /worst/ lines I'd ever heard. Unfortunately, they are heard all to commonly, used by misguided men. I found them amusing enough (some of them) and wrote replies, for the men with the common sense of a donkey. This is the first installment 1-50.

 

You know, if I ever came to America, I'd probably /burn/. They say Americans are big on the religion thing, which is just about as general as saying people from England are all pompous, tea-loving, cricket-players. It's not true, not entirely. Even so, I've never come across anyone that serious about religion. Sure, I know people who go to church and all the biz, but they don't get me involved and I certainly don't get involved with that stuffs.

It just occurred to me that I do in fact know quite a few people who /do/ take their religion oh so seriously in the US, which had me musing. I have a great many opinions, and I'm not about to prattle on about them, because my greatest one is that, really, no one gives a shit as long as they have their own opinions and beliefs. One day I might, if I really get that bored.

So yeeeah. I'm almost wary of coming to the US now, because I can imagine me talking to someone then accidentally saying something insulting, which is the /last/ thing I want to do. But some people take that really seriously. I know people in England that are that passionate about other things, and I'm forever saying things then mentally facepalming as I watch their eyes get smaller and smaller. I can imagine it. It'd be like 'Oh noes! The stupid Brit is being blasphemous! Burn her!!!1!" D8<

Or something to those lines. *ahem* Yeah...I'll just be sure to bring my fire extinguisher.

Have you ever noticed that sea monkeys don't /actually/ look like monkeys at all? Or live in the sea for that matter. No, they live in little plastic containers filled with tap water and algae. Duh.
I got my brother a packet of sea monkey eggs a coupla years back for his birthday because I thought it was just the sort of thing he'd like (and I was curious). Needless to say we were all vaguely disappointed that they turned out to be little..shrimp..bug..things. Not little humanoids. With blonde hair. Nope. They didn't even do tricks! In fact, after waiting days after putting the eggs into the mini container we still couldn't see any. Unless you noticed the miniscule moving dots. Which we didn't. So yeah, he got his sea monkeys, I had my curiosity satisfied and the parents were suitably disgusted with the creatures.
But after a while, I'd notice things. They were looking at me. These tiny little squirmy shrimp whatsits were actually hovering by the side of the clear, plastic wall and /staring/ at me with those freakishly large, beady eyes of theirs. From that point forward, I grew paranoid. The uninteresting, slightly grotesque creatures had become monsters just waiting to jump out of their plastic home then wriggle and flop all the way to my sleeping bed. Then squirm up my nose or something. *shudder*
They all died. Which is good, because I was sorely tempted to throw them out of the window or something like that. But firstly, that would be mass murder, and their ghosts or agents would come to hear and seek their revenge. And then I thought I could tip them down the drain..but they'd return..I knew it.
It should have ended there. It didn't. This year, my brother was given..sea monkeys! It took them bloody ages to hatch, I was hoping the eggs were stale or something. ¬_¬ But no. And they've been multiplying. Most of them have these giant sacks on their rear end. It's amusing how they get weighed down and steer into walls.
Yet, only the other day did I look in and go "Huh, there's less than yesterday. Must be dying out" Oooh no. No no. After closer inspection there are fucking /hundreds/ of tiny particles of moving sea monkey babiez!!!1! Argghhhh!
I am afraid. I am /very/ afraid.

First thing's first. I'm posting this because /I/ need to get stuff off my chest, to refer back to and to communicate with a couple of people.

Ever been bothered by your parents? Perhaps while you were arting? or working? Or chatting with someone? I personally find it irritating when it's right in the middle of an RP. But I can usually handle it, just parents, yanno? Tell them you're busy, it's fine. But when they've had too much to drink? Not so easy. So not so easy when that seems to be a permanent state these days. Either that, or it only occurs to her to bother me when she's tipsy. Cause yeah, it's still basically my mother. My step-dad is pretty..dense, unfortunately. Won't stand up for his kids, or anyone for that matter. Barely stands up for himself, unless he's in a situation where he physically needs to. Other than that, he just does what he's told. But hey, teaches to not rely on others, right?

So yeah, last night I was RPing, doing some other stuff and generally keeping to myself. Mind you, it was 2.30am. Apparently she hadn't gone to bed, stayed downstairs drinking, so when she stumbled upstairs and found me on the comp as usual, she decided she'd go all the way down again and unplug all the phone wires. By sheer luck she identified the adapter plug that makes it all run, and returned upstairs to hide it. on her bedside table. My ninja skills sought it out when she wandered back downstairs for more liquid insanity serum. Of course, during this, either when she came back up or before that, she attacked my lappy.

Now, I wasn't about to have that, not again. I knew she'd do something to it. Times like this, there's no reasoning there. Nada. So I wouldn't let her get to it. Easier said than done, that woman is a lot stronger than she looks, and finds it hard to recognise when you cross the line from pushing someone out of the way to attacking them. Although this time, I made sure she kept arms length away by keeping hold of her arms. I fully expected her to bite me. Took me ages to convince her there was no way she was taking the laptop, before she decided ripping out every other piece of wiring I had was the way to go. So even though I was left with my laptop, it would have barely an hours battery left, and no internet connection. Joy. That was before I got the plug back of course.

Heh, I remember the bit where I leant back, making a face. "Geez, you smell. Of alcohol.". She blinked at me then tried to do this awful impression of some sort of insane person breathing on me. May have been more effective had she been spouting fire. I just stared at her. "..Nice. Thankyou. Because that is totally normal behaviour.."

She counteracted by starting on about my father. Because I hadn't heard /that/ one before...So blah blah he's a bastard who wanted me aborted moan moan it was only out of the goodness of her heart did she keep me, but now she knows she shouldn't have bitch bitch go live with him cause no one loves me. I mean come on, she doesn't seem to understand how much I don't care. Because I don't. So what if I'm the result of my dads affair? So frickin what if I very nearly didn't exist? it doesn't change things /now/. Not sure what's she trying to do, because telling me I'm shit, worthless and all that jazz isn't going to make me care any more than I do now. Life goes on.

Once she left and I got the plug back, I was unable to plug all the phone lines back in, as she decided her trip downstairs to the wine fridge was going to last hours. And thus could not get the the point where all the connection shit was without her seeing me. In the end, I gave up and went to sleep. Let her drink herself to death, but I'm not going to have anything to do with it.

So that was yesterday, another typical night for me. Today, however, she managed to get herself tipsy by the afternoon. And carrying on from yesterday she was totally nasty. But I ignore it. Like always. Le sigh. Later on she came upstairs to 'talk'. I told her if she was going to give me the usual spiel that she may as well not bother, as I've heard it all before and I /still/ couldn't care less. She wouldn't leave and of course she started talking about how 'worried' she is for me, as I'm not 'normal'. Well I'm sorry I'm not like she was at my age, like my brother was, or her various older friends. But I'm not them. In all honesty, if she took a look around the people my age, she'd see nothing out of the ordinary, but apparently she believes I should be out having pic-nics with my little friends by the riverside. Well la-de-dah, don't make me laugh. She complains I don't spend any time with the family (I wonder /why/?!) and that I don't communicate with her. Why, /why/ would I want to? She is totally deaf to everything. not just me, but the rest of the family, psychiatrists, her friends, her other family. Everything is taken as a personal insult to her, everyone else is always wrong. We are forbidden from pointing out her shortcomings but finds it easy enough to complain about us. Typical. I, personally, don't want to have anything to do with this family, as screwed up as it is, especially her. I tried to help, and I can't. So /that/ conversation went well..

She came back yet again later to tell me to find a new place to live. Fine by me. I mean, it's not as if I /want/ to move out right now, I don't earn enough and I have no idea where I'd go /right/ at this moment. But it's not like the thought hasn't occurred to me before. Just this isn't the best time. Plus, I'm leery of leaving my little brother to deal with all the shit on his own. But oh well, let's see how that pans out.

How fun life is. I almost feel like a rock. Rocky rock rock. And now I'm hungry.

Another "awesome" shouting match with ze Tyrant, translated 'The Mother' (This wording is banned in 12 countries as the continuing terror rises) and once again I lose all will to live. (Not literally, I'm not /that/ much of an idiot)

So what was it today? Oh right, apparantly she refuses to support me financially in any way whatsoever. Started because I decided I really /should/ stop being lazy and get some driving lessons. Dad sent me a cheque for £150, which coming from him is pretty nice, although won't go far, I can cover the rest. Fair enough. But it irked me when she said she couldnt be bothered to put the extra insurance on her peugeot 206 so I could get the /practice/ in. No sharing! Meh, and after that I realised none of my parents had given me any support for years. Once again, not such a big deal, but when it comes to education or something big, they're just as unhelpful. "Bah humbug" applies.

/Then/ get a bucketload of 'Shit, What the /fuck/ am I listening for?' cause every time, /every/ time, it just gnaws away at me, making me feel like shit. No, I'm not worthless, I'm not an idiot. What really get's me annoyed is that she isn't even off her feet pissed yet. /That/ I can handle, I have to, but the malicious /smugness/ just..erk. Bleh, moan moan moan, that's me. I need to get a grip and not be so open with this shit, but hell, this is an LJ. I don't /have/ anyone to talk about it to, so this'll do. A notebook of sorts. I'd much rather record the hilarious things that happen during my day, but I get home and 'Whoomph'. Good mood gone. Magic!

Maybe someday I'll actually write an LJ entry where I can admit what goes on here, but for now, I can't even admit it to a computer screen. Can't /talk/ to people because I have a tendancy to shrug it off. I can deal. Always have. And hell, it's my life, I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I can try and write it out in my entries, so it's off my chest, but in RL it's just not plausible to explain. I realized this when I was speaking to a policewoman a while back. I just couldn't /say/ anything. So I'd sit there and smile and shrug, say things're fine. I can deal.

It's been suggested several times I just move out, a few times by herself. As much as I'd love to, that just isn't logical right now, I need a /steady/ job. Still trying to get info on that swimming assistant teachers course, although may as well just go for the full teachers now. Can earn a pretty penny there. For now, I'm stuck.

And I don't want to leave my younger brother here alone. He can't do it alone.

.....

Or my cat. I lurve her so much! ;D

I had my hair cut today. Thought I'd go for something shorter and funkier, cause yanno...it'd be more manageable and look pretty damn awesome. Had a couple of referance pics, booked the time about a week back.

The thing to remember if you have a lot of thick hair is that it's a lot to work with. I am aware of this, and can cut a hairdresser some slack, as I have to look after the damn mop every day. So I just wanted it cut /short/, as in mid neck length. And layered, so the lighter bits at the top would flick out. Not too hard is it? Thought maybe they could spruce up the fringey bit some.

I am the biggest damn fool /ever/. Never.Never./NEVER/ let a swedishman cut your hair! For fucks sake! Even if your parents met him in a pub and recomended him. I should have realised my mistake there, don't listen to your parents. Especially /my/ parents.

He came in 10 mins late then stared at me as if I was some piece of shit he'd brought in with him, before asking if I had an appointment. Well of course not sir! I just felt like waltzing in, hanging up my coat and taking a seat in your dressing chair for the hell of it! He looked like he should be working in a bank, not a hairdressers.

So I showed him the ref pics and explained what I wanted done. Once again I kept the bar fairly low, despite telling him what I wanted exactly. Predictably he said he was going to cut it a little longer, because my hair bounces up, even curls when wet. So that's no problem, as long as it's still short. He suddenly whacked a load of hair off and took me off to wash it. Well okay, still fine. Gave me the drivel about buying their brand of shampoo and blah, then led me back.

The fact that he's swedish is no excuse to say he couldn't understand me properly, he spoke english fluently. Course instead of saying 'layering' he said 'texture' and small bits like that, but in general, he knew what the hell I was talking about. Or he pretended to and was a fucking eejit.

To cut the bullshit, when he'd finished the first thing I thought was 'Eeep!'. Unfortunately I'm too polite to Eeep out loud, so I just smiled, nodded and said that's fine. In the salon it looked 'okay', the word used very loosely. It was no where near what I wanted but it wasn't too bad. Much too long, reaching my shoulders and barely any layering. So I paid £38 and left, after he'd lectured me on calling him if I wasn't happy with it or something. It was when I was walking home and glancing in car windows at the reflection that I started to panic.

He'd cut it so damn /straight/. One of my pet hates is hair that ends in too straight a line, or doesn't frame the face. Fringes in particular. Maybe he was trying to prove something when he was cutting my hair, what with it being so fucking /straight/ and all. My hair hung just above and parrallel to the shoulders, cut like...a ruler! And that wouldnt have been so bad if the layers above would have blended in /or/ flicked out. But no. They hung there like my hair had /no/ life (Which is almost unheard of in my hair) and the layers started like an inch above the lowest part of the hair. In fact, it looked like he got bored and skimped on the cutting, so I've got this nice thick /line/ of hair. Gaaah!

It's hard to describe. But believe me, it looks goddamn HIDEUOUS! I got home and tried to bring it back to life, using mousse, gunk and shit and NO! I got so worked up I screamed at the mirror a bit and threw a few things around. It is /that/ bad. I have /never/ had a cut go so badly wrong. I almost cried. It's /nothing/ like what I wanted. He just went with whatever he wanted to do. Which, by the way, is how a lot of swedish cuts look like. I hate that look. I really do. Meant to make you look younger. I so /not/ need to look younger. I look too young as it is. I can get away with paying kids fee's on most things. Which is depressing..but saves on money.

For now I threw it under a freezing shower and am letting it dry naturally, after headbanging a bit to mess it up. I am feeling so /so/ bad right now. Just finished the tub of Ben & Jerry's. I've been having a shit time recently, mostly due to family problems, but I won't go into that. Some day soon I am going to /break/.
Now I know why Pippi Longstocking keeps her hair up in those crazy plaits. He got to her too.

Okay, in all honesty, it takes a lot to make me squirm. I'm not a naturally squeamish person and maybe, juust maybe, that's why I find it so damn hilarious when other people overrreact.

I'm well aware that being squeamish can come from a load of different stimuli and shit, phobia of blood, pain, blah blah, more easily said that humans naturally fear pain and...yeah, okay, not going into it. Fortunately, I seem to be able to cope fairly well when it comes to blood, guts and gore (Maaaaybe why I prefer horror movies to anything else). Lucky me.

Right, today there was some sorta presentation on driving under the effects of..anything. I didn't get the point, nor did I care. However, I was immensely entertained when it ended up being a long video of a reconstructed car crash, laid out a bit like a movie, blood, guts an' all. So I was quite happy to sit back and watch.

I noticed the room was getting a little stuffy, and happened to look up to see one guy standing and starting for the doors. Assumed he couldn't be assed to watch the rest, looked away and next thing I knew *WHUMP*, I looked back round and the guy was on the frickin' floor! A couple of dudes jumped up and started dragging him out the door. I was soo /so/ amused. I had to stop myself laughing, due to the fact that the whole topic was meant to be serious. But..heee..I can't heeelp it. Call me a bad person.

Well, he was a jerk anyway.

What with the room getting so hot and all, it wasn't really a surprise he fainted, but he could have at /least/ let one of the squeamish girls get there first. Talk about not gentlemanly! The video itself wasn't even that nauseating...seriously.

I remember doing work experience at the local vets, and enjoying it majorly. I was expecting boredom, nothing like the streotypical view of a vets hospital, but nope! As tiny a place it was, it still got it's action! I remember a dog having a tooth removed, the gum area around it being infected badly. The dog had thrown itself into a panic beforehand, and remained so afterwards too. It managed to make a complete bloody mess of it's gums, bloody in the most literal sense possible. It would shake it's head, blood and bits of fleshy gum flying off and splattering everywhere. And guess who got to clean it up?

Then there was Murphy the cat, whom I grew attached to, as he was a long term resident, snake bite to the forleg needing a skin transplant. Or..yeah. In the end, when they took off the bandages, ready for the operation, I have to admit, that must have been the queasiest I've felt in my entire lifetime. It was the pus and blackened bits and goo and..really, I just felt for the poor thing. I'd seen worse in my little time there, but I just felt bad for him. I watched as they made a beautifully clean cut flap of skin on his stomach, then reattached it /over/ his leg. So he'd be three legged for a while, just until the skin attached itself to the arm well enough for them to release him. Didn't much like the burning of the nerve endings. Ouchsome. T'was the smell. But once again, it was because he was /my/ lil Murphy. Man, I loved my time there!

I've fainted on numerous occasions, from pain, mostly. I'm clumsy, and I always end up hitting a nerve somewhere, then blacking out for a couple of seconds as the pain goes to my brain first. The most memorable time I can remember fainting was an audition in London for the National Youth Theatre. I spent the week up at my dad's, but..and this is a big but...I was completely and utterly sick. In the worse sense possible. I couldn't get up and walk two steps without going dizzy, but I was determined to see the audition through at the end of the week. I believed I got better, was dropped off and not 10 mins after that, had an episode.

I was eyeing the competition, and some sweet gal came over and started chatting, by which time I was feeling a lil hot under the collar. So I edged my way to a bench (it was some sort of community/church centre, filled with huge heaters which only heated bits of the place, of course, I didn't know this) while nodding and smiling as this girl followed. I managed to sit down and remove my coat (I'd only gone and sat next to a heater!)then promptly blacked out. I woke up on the stone floor, with all these faces staring down at me, like in the cartoons. First thing I said was;

"Whoops! Sorry!"

then smiled and sat up, pretending I knew where the hell I was, for at that point, I had no idea who these people were, where I was or how I got there. Sort of amnesia for a few minutes. When I remembered, and they'd made sure I was fine, the girl started rambling on about how one minute I'd been sitting there, the next moment I'd flopped onto the floor and started twitching like crazy. Said she thought I'd been electrocuted. Hmm..nice image. I was almost tempted to say it had been one big performance. I mean, how much more realistic and original can you get?

Any of the hoo...I think that's about it. If I havn't sent you into a twitching fit yet then I need to work on my boredom techniques.

Okay, I am SO enjoying a couple of forum rp's I joined as a laugh. I don't have high expectations of these types of things, so I guess the enjoyment comes from the guys I'm playing with. Gotta love them. There's a couple of complete morons on one of the forums, but hell, not for long if I've got anything to say about it. *cracks whip* Any of the hoo, both are really new, but totally worth the time to go and check them out.

http://www.wereanimals.proboards74.com/index.cgi

http://augustafalls.proboards83.com/index.cgi?

Yeah...one of the reasons for my recent bad moods is probably because I'm ill...again. when I'm ill, I get it bad. So basically I'm just getting warmed up. And pissy. Ah fuck..just noticed I'm sitting next to a spider. Not for long...>:)
Aaany of the hoo. I'm tired too. Couple of friends of mine commented today on how I seem drained in the day, yet become suddenly active in the evening. Never really thought about it before, guess my body really id adapting to nights. Suits me just fine but for classes in the day.
On a plus/not-so-plus note, found a forum rp. It's sparkling new, but has so many damn flaws! can't expect too much from a forum rp but still. I'm determined to see if I can get a char through Twink territory unharmed. Pfft, good luck with /that/. I mean seriously, who can go up against the likes of this? -> http://www.wereanimals.proboards74.com/index.cgi?board=approved&action=display&thread=1166594543
I mean really...I don't even have to say anything.

It's always been known my connection and I don't get along. Difference in personalities I guess. We just don't have anything in common. Like how I'll still be alive when I murder it. Seriously, I get so friggen stressed when the router dies and reboots constantly, letting me online for juust long enough to get back onto messenger and IRC, then BOOM. Laughs in my face. Guess we don't have the same sense of humour either. Anyhoo, I've had it. After some investigation it turns out TalkTalk are too small a company to deal with as many customers as it's getting, so the unexpected populairty is stretching them too thin, therefore, the connection isn't as 'top notch' as it's meant to be. Well boo-frickin-hoo, people paying to get the service should bloody well get what they paid for! The signal is too low and when they back up their files the connection dies. This is about 1am for me, so yeah..death to the nonliving shit coming out of TalkTalk's mouth. Currently investigating other methods, as there's no way I'm gonna lose this war. /So/ much stress! I decided to cheer myself up by spending £40 odd on art supplies, so maybe, just /maybe/, I can get out some decent artwork. Although, to be honest, it'd still require effort. Ix-nay on the Ffort-ey.

Mmm...pork. What better way to start this off than on a full stomach? Got back from work today. Working at a restaurant/hotel has it's downsides...and..no..just downsides. 'Cept for the money. I work my arse off for these people and what do they do? They eat and run. And guess who's tips it's coming out of? That's right; MINE! Then another bitchy couple moaned on about how the portions were too BIG. Oh I'm sorry you're getting your money's worth! Geez..anyway, good news is I have money in the bank, which means I'm that much closer to travelling somewhere! Joy upon joys, my bet is that all of it will be gone by the end of the month. Cause I'm a money pig...Mmm...pork.