Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Eternity, Free tan, Breaking down scientifically

If I never delete this will my thoughts live on forever? I would guess my kids are going to read this one day if that's the case. Kid I should say. I'm only having one. By surrogate. Stella if a girl. Henry [Harry], boy. A cat named Oliver. And a husband with the intelligence of Stephen Hawkings, minus the wheelchair. Only because these things always end in an affair with the nurse.

When Stephen Hawkings thinks, would his thoughts be in that computerized voice? I don't know what it says about me that that would be the first question I'd ask of the man. When I was in England every thought I had was suddenly in a British accent; my British accent. Even though it's only me hearing it I still felt foolish thinking the same way when I was back home. But while I was there I felt could get away with it.

Looking forward to the next dust storm. Everyone was complaining but they're nothing but beneficial to me. My skin could afford to take a battering of colour. There's a new business moving in next door to work. It's some sort of Asthma clinic. Not too happy the lifts will now be held up by whingers.

Got a headache today. Over a boy. Hate to admit it. It resulted in a cornflake binge, vent via blog post, fetal position & Limewire crashing under the pressure to download too many Sarah Blasko songs. In other words it was a roller-coaster ten minutes.

I don't often blog about love or relationships. Only because the more I think about it the more I tend to rationalize it scientifically. And who wants to endure such a romantic analysis.

I typed "wbu?" for the first time last week. It stuck. I hate it. It's all I ever say online now.

Wanting to run away to Holland to pick tulips for a living. Sounds nice. Been thinking about it for a while now. Still struggling to find a downside.

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