Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Update on a wonderful thing I like to call 'life'.

And of course by life, I mean the angst filled, bitterly tortured mal-existence that feeds from my shriveled soul, only to purge it onto the hateful and abominable black hole I like to call the 'interweb'.

Just kidding. I'm not really a goth.

Life is great. Great flat, great flatmates, great boyfriend, mediocre choice of study.

Why I chose to study early childhood education is beyond me. I've come to the conclusion that I am doing it to put off having to worry about what it is I really want to do..

Which of course I haven't decided yet.

I have work experience coming up soon. I can just picture it. High pitched squeals from tantrum throwing two year olds, pant soiling play-dough munchers, paint smeared faces and mud smeared clothes, sandpit lurkers, biffing wet sand. Playcentre like it should be. AWFUL.

Enough of me.

On to you. You suck.

Until next time.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Mrs Underpants.


Ok, so I went to the library today to study for my theorist assignment (And it matters not that I ended up with two Jackie Collins novels and tears streaming down my face).

Tears of laughter that is.

Now, normally when I venture into the library, there are little short sighted women with trolleys wandering around looking chirper. Today was no exception. These women are harmless old dears, but don't let your vocals get carried away with you down the horoscope section, because they will bite, and it will hurt.

So why is it, if a teenager is making a racket in the library, they are asked to either quieten down or piss off, yet a stubbly retarded lady singing at the top of her lungs about underpants get's to stay without hassle.

Underpaaaaaaants, UNDERPAAAAAAAAAANTS, take of my UNDERPAAAAAAAANTS, I want some UNDEEEEEEEERPANNNNNNNTS.

These were the exact words she warbled for 20 minutes while I pretended to flick through the (rubbish, sparse, poorly selected) music section in the libary.

Nobody said a word to her. You want equality for the mentally disturbed, yet they roam free in the sacred land of books.

Underpaaaaaaaaaaants.