This weekend was alright! I think I just managed to build up unrealistic expectations, which is never positive.
Bike Fitness was awful and the cause for a substantial amount of self-hatred. It was also the place for a very sad realisation about the lack of sleep I get.
Seeing Tash was really rockin'. I do love that girl so very much, and it was so humourous. Even a little visit from Mrs. Parsons didn't break my spirits.
Alex Kinsella's house was fun as per usual. I made lovely friends at Maccas and felt incredibly relaxed and nice.
Frani's at night was average.
Oh I'm totally kidding! Fun with Grace and the Boys is always guarenteedeo
...Oh god I just wrote that. There's something wrong here.
Anyway, last night was really quite sensational. Frani, Camille and Paprika make me inexplicably happy and calm and happy!
Except this morning turned sad when I realised I hate myself. Whoopa!
When I got home, I was clearly more tired than anticipated because I fell into an accidental nap. And then I had that terribly sensation when you've slept for a few hours and you have a funny taste in your mouth and you feel like death and the time doesn't make sense. It was frightening and I did not like it.
WORK HOWEVER, was fun. I fully washed dishes! In case you're confused, that is something to get excited about.
And yeah things are alright.
Except this fucking media project which is driving me absolutely insane. Like....to insanity. Crazy. Insane. Not good.
Henry is most likely retarded in the head.
This blog post is badly written and things. NIGHT Y'ALL
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