Today has been an interesting day. No, seriously.
First, we lost a house. Not quite in the ‘oh-shit-where-did-I-misplace-that-building’ way, but in the ‘I-hate-you-estate-agent-with-your-smug-smile’. Want to know how the FHM was greeted this morning? By Andy-at-GKWhites, with an “Oh yeah, we let the house this morning.” Well nerr to you Andy. Because we’ll find a better house. A prettier house damn it. Who wants a house with two front doors and flower pattern wardrobes anyway?! Not us.. Nuh-uh. *sobs dramatically in a corner*
Final first year drama performance. Oh dear lord. Not sure if it went swimmingly or was simply a hands down out and out disaster. I’m gonna pray on the first. Although pretty sure it wasn’t fab. Like, really wasn’t.. It probably wasn’t helped, no wait it definitely wasn’t helped, by the fact that we had *no audience*. Yep. Bit of an issue really.. Felt like a bloody rehearsal. Aside from the whole, ‘oh-yeah-we’re-being-assessed’ thing. Which is a shame to be fair, cause Woyzeck is actually quite a fun play. Y’know just your average German play, filled with death and personal destruction. Ahh such a drama geek. Is it really that bad if you personally admit it? Huh..
And then the afternoon happened. And no Asda delivery had turned up. It should have done, oh it should have done. Between 2 and 4. When there were at least 10 people in our house. But no.. Nada on the pretty green van front. Shoot.
So what do you do when you have no food? You visit Falmer Bar. Home of beautiful food. Beautiful cheap food. (Oh I love student bars..) And then, naturally, you follow the FHM home to steal her coffee and hide under her kitchen chairs. Ooh and discuss the logical way to post body parts to evil toxic male people. (No offense guys, but a large majority of your species suck.) We’re gonna have an awesome house next year. There’ll be cushions, and lamps, and mugs, and people lists by the door, and post-its, and bread fights, and chopped up body parts in the freezer. I joke. Maybe..
So then, I finally get home. And guess what? Still no bloody Asda delivery. We are currently not happy bunnies on the female floor. Oh cor blimey no. And after a particularly tense phone call, I could beat Mister-Asda with a wooden spoon. No, really. Because they couldn’t find our house. So guess who has to rearrange time to, y’know, eat..
And now.. Now the housemate is watching PS. I Love You. Oh Gerard Butler. You and your Irish accent.. I could eat you all up.