Wear The Golf Suit, Please

Damn you, Seb, now you've found this I cannot write the rude things I was planning on writing about you. Like how your face is far too big. And how you constantly smell of stew. Perhaps after your first viewing of this here blog you will not return, for it is compiled of only nonsense and mind squiggles. Although, I have to tell you, Sebastian dear, if you had not informed me of your findings, I may have continued to write secret thoughts about you, for example, expressing my undying love for you and all you stand for. So, all in all, I think you lose. Sorry.

This weekend was mainly filled with me pretending to revise. Look, I'm sorry, but until five pm on Friday, all you are going to hear about is how little revision I've done, and how I'm going to fail, and what I'm going to do once I have been thrown out of uni for being entirely useless and unable to complete any sort of intellectual work. Feel free to check back next week, when instead of my many revision moanings, there will instead be inane chatter, on subjects such as: what shall I do with my hair? What two nail varnish colours go together best to make my nails look totally awesome? Should I write my essay, or just go back to watching many episodes of Gilmore Girls? See? You don't even need to read any of this, as I have just outlined the next few weeks topics, at least. My life is so damn exciting.

So instead of revision on Saturday, Jon came to visit, and, as I am sure you can imagine, he is entirely distracting. Along with Alex's creepy friends who slept on our sofas, and complained about the cold. We went to Oddfellows, of course, being that we are too lazy to walk to anywhere other than there or Firehouse. Both of which are less than five minutes walk away from our nice prison house. So, I proceeded to get drunk, in order to try to catch up with Jon's insane amount of inebriation, and at midnight, we skipped off into the dark to find disgusting food, and then back to Oddfellows, where I removed my top, and then Seb flashed his homemade breasts at Kreepy Kai, who look violently ill afterwards. I, personally, was rather impressed with Seb's newly acquired mammaries, made solely of my socks and my bra. Jon was less impressed however, claiming that it was his favourite bra, and that Seb had tainted it with his transvestitism. All in all, a good night was had by all. Except Alex's friend Paul, who I believe subsequently vommed all night. Good good.

God, my life is entirely dull now. I am bored just typing all this nonsense. Anything to escape from the monotony of Kant, and Pope. Shut up, please, you bastards of Enlightenment. I am tired of you. I no longer am interested in what you have to say, so please be quiet.

I may just sleep til Friday. This seems to be the only solution.