Hundredth post!

How surreal. 

That's all I have to say, it's really not that big a deal now that I'm here. Bit of an anticlimax, really.

A guy in the band I'm in had a baby yesterday evening. Well, his wife did. They've given him an unusual name. Inigo. It's really quite beautiful. He sounds like a winner. Got me thinking about what I'd call my child, if I was to have one now. Not that I've been thinking about it for years or anything, because I'm a bit of a creep. I like Lazarus. And Ezekiel. And Evangeline. And Lenore. [After the poem, not the fabric conditioner.]

HRAH. Exams. Two down, five to go. Biology on Monday, English lit earlier today. Biology couldn't have gone much better. I'll be disappointed and surprised if I don't do better than last time. Still, I AM SO RELIEVED that lit is done. It didn't go as well as it could have, but the poetry question was quite nice. "Compare the ways in which Heaney and Sheers write about love." I blathered on about parental love for five sides of A4 because I'd done well in a practice essay on something similar a couple of days ago. 

Not going into school tomorrow, thank goodness. Giving my hand some recuperation after that beast of an exam earlier. My wrist sounds like a cement mixer. 

I'm going to take a nap, and then wake up in time to watch Sweeney Todd later. I miss Johnny Depp in the good ol' days. Edward Scissorhands. Finding Neverland. Sleepy Hollow. He's been in nothing but these shitty, kooky films since Public Enemies and it saddens me greatly.

Simon Amstell at the Northampton Derngate next week and I HAVE AN EXAM THE NEXT DAY, DAMNIT.

Did you know, James Morrison has done an acoustic cover of Coolio's 1995 "hit" Gangsta's Paradise? I almost choked on my cereal.