It was another of those hysterical days - you know the type. Nothing makes sense in the slightest, and it just feels like everything is slowly climbing on top of you head, pressing you down to the ground. Which is always amusing. And for some reason, the office-lady-without-a-name decided it would be a good idea to push the registers into the staff room in a WHEELCHAIR. Why? WHY? Why would she do that to my already befuddled brain? Oh weirdness.
And another thing. Why would darling Rozzle decide to paint me with too much yellow paint, leaving me with the complexion of a Simpson? I also have, um, interesting "blonde" streaks at the front. Fit non? I think so.
And to add insult to injury (what does that phrase actually mean? Answers on a postcard ), I have to indulge in an oral de Francais. Which will be hilarious. Or, like not. As I cannot speak a single word of coherent french. Mais, never mind. I shall fail. Who cares? Not me. But on the upside, I got a lot of good luck presents. Like, LOADS. Ahh. I should do GCSEs more often.
Sigh.
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