Saturday, 31 March 2012

Dink dunk dink donk

Lady Godiva, Alex Day. Because I ship nerimon and I always will.
As people go, I like to think I'm pretty mild-mannered. I don't really do extremes - bouncing between ecstasy and depression and back again, that's just not like me. I'm more of a, stay-cool-and-keep-the-peace-as-far-as-possible kind of person. I don't have time for mood swinging all over the place. Far too much arsing around to do to allow for that kind of thing, y'know.
But what's becoming apparent more and more with every passing day is how damn scathing I can be. It's triggered by nothing at all, aimed at people who don't deserve it, and always leaves me with a sick feeling in my mouth, and even when I'm saying the spiteful crap I know I'm saying it just for the hell of it and it's undeniably shit. When did I become such a bitch? Most of the time I feel this completely irrational anger beginning to build, I'm able to control it, but sometimes it spills over and I say something cruel and unnecessary and afterwards I'm just like, "Why?" Why do I do stupid stuff! Someone tell me!
I think at heart I'm a suppressed control freak. Whatever it is, it's gotten worse as I've grown up. I never used to be such a bitter cow.
In other news. Easter! Holidays! Two weeks! Yes! Revision! No! All the same. It's not like I'm not having a break at all. There's Chicken Tits and Anonymous coming to stay next week, which, now I think about it, I really can't wait for. It's rare to have a few days in close proximity with friends. I'm hoping there'll be some great photo opportunities. And pizza. I sincerely hope neither of you was planning on healthy eating for the duration. If you were, you're in for a terribly disappointing time.
I got my report a couple of days ago. It was depressing. All the grades are lined up into columns, and for each subject there are three grades next to each other; the minimum target, the predicted, and the current level. For biology, mine spelled out BAD. I'm working at a more shit level than my teachers think is possible of me. Like I said. Depressing.
Quote of the Day: Boys, get momma's plastic hooker shoes outta your Lego box! [Joy, My Name is Earl]

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