I got a lift to work this morning in my mums brand new car. It's a bright yellow Fiat Panda. It's also, disgusting. Even the seats are yellow. It looks like someone was sick on the blue-prints for it and nobody noticed, but they made it anyway.
Work was really boring as usual, but I spent my nectar points on some junk food and just ate crisps and M&M's all night. I was off my tits on sugar. I offered one of the new guys some of my big bag of kettle chips and he put some in a bowl and ate them with a spoon. I now realise why people like us work unsociable hours.
There was this woman I'd not worked with before called Maggie. She had those glasses that made her eyes look gargantuantly massive and really shit hair. She was old (just in case the name didn't suggest it already. But actually in hindsight, look at Maggie from the Simpsons.). She said I was an incompetent manager so I stuck some stickers on her back. I don't think she noticed.
I left work at 6am today instead of 7am as I needed to take the hour I was owed back today, little did I know there were no buses running until 7.45, so I walked from Lee Green to the park and had a walk through the deer enclosure and saw sunrise, which was quite lovely. There were these too horny ones going at it(as in with horns, not ooooh, matron) and they just suddenly stopped after a good ten minutes of them doing it. I think one of them might've been hit in the eye.
I left the park at about eightish and made my way home on foot, because if I stood still too long, all the tea I'd had that night just rushed to my feet and I thought I was gonna wet myself.
I got home to find I had a very late birthday present from Hoolie. Hoolie didn't know what to get me, so he gave Lava and Lukia the money and they got me a massive pair or monkey slippers, some toe socks and one of those me to you bears with some earmuffs on.
I'm starting this diary type thing to monitor just how little I do with myself and maybe seeing just how little I do will make me want to do some more stuff so I can write about it.
There was an article in a paper the other day (not tough to guess, but I'll bet my left arm is was The Sun) about a one year old boy in some country who was found being looked after by cats. The father, a homeless man had apparently lost his son while looking for cardboard to sell. Why he didn't just sell his son, in the first place, I don't know.
I listened to Animal Collective on my way home and around the park. I CANNOT wait until January 12th for their new'un.
It's half three now and I reckon I should go to bed.
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