fucking pencils...

I'm being disturbed on a nightly basis of dreams involving different situtations to do with pencils. How ordinary. For instance, in my sanity challenging dream, last night I was casually at a pub when a man with no teeth came over and held out an HB pencil. Why?
Then on the bus to school, on which I was not even slightly in a slumber, I was deep sea diving and my oxygen cannister was a giant pencil. I don't think I have an imagination, I should check out eBay...

In other (as some would say) news, I have finished the book I have recently been reading every night before I go to bed. Some could say that my odd dreams have been fueled by what is a crime novel with a plot of a crazy ass rapist being assissted by a convincted paedophile in prison. Though it just sounds like total dirt, it's got amazing details like all crime novels. Mmm now I sound like a tooootal sadist.

Just thought I'd share that beautiful ramble with whoever reads this.

Fajitas; woah nelly.

Though Mexican food evidently made Glen fart like a Nazi gas dispenser, Valentines Day was not an absolute overrated poof for once. Infact, I will go as far as saying it was lovely.

I haven't posted a blog in a few days so I thought I'd refresh my mind from all its pointless thoughts. Recent ones containing:
I love walking at night-time, despite thinking everything is a paedophile, the air smells lovely.
If peanut butter cups ever become discontinued, I will resort to suicide.
Froot Loops are a godsend, but Sweet City morph them into a satanic rip off.

So mainly I have been thinking of food and kiddy catchers. Nice.

Half Term.

At long last. Not really. Quite stupid that they should give us a holiday after three weeks of coming back, but hey I'm not complaining. Well, I just did but only theoretically - it's not as if I'm going to hastily protest by going to school on my days off. How dreamy, I have a hard on just contemplating on the thought off breaking into the school and... LEARNING.

Anyway, enough boring sarcasm. I am really quite happy at the moment. I'm not one for soppiness but I do indeed have amazing friends and a lovely boyfriend. Glen you're only mentioned as I know you read my blog. Only joking, but really.

In conclusion, I have realised that there was infact no point whatsoever to this post, I just felt a babble would do my tiny hands some good. It also gave my keyboard a nice quivering orgasm.

Farewell.

I made two girls cry today.

With a gap of not even 5 minutes inbetween. I'm starting to think that perhaps scientists are slowly injecting the devil into my veins to see what happens.
Well this is it.
We were sat in English reading out Journey's End, I have now perfected my cockney waiter accent, and Lois (a sick and twisted girl who started a paedophilic rumour about herself) was staring at Lacey intensely. So Lacey being a bigmouth said to her 'What are you looking at pervert?' and Lois' eyes darted away like... a dart. So I went too far as per by saying 'Yeah I thought you liked the young'uns anyway?'
She walked out and then I was informed she was crying. I felt a pang of guilt but hey, she's a paedo.
Second victim of the Toddinator was Robyn an attention seeking conversation interjecting swine of an oxygen waster. I know this sounds mean but if you knew her you would agree with my insult/analysis. She decided to have a go at me for making Lois cry so I cut her down with my possibly too sarcastic words and she said 'Go stuff yourself'
So I said 'Go cut yourself' as she likes to brag about this. So she dramatically sat down in a huff, lifted her sleeve and showes her tiny bicep cuts to an innocent Jess who was sat next to her.
She then got up and huffed out after pushing over a chair that she tripped over.

Consequently I have finally realised I need to think before I speak.
On a lighter note, I had a lovely time at Glen's and his Mum makes bitchin' enchilladas.

I finally saw Daybreakers today, it was worth the wait. Despite the seedy little bat that made me jump like a flea during the opening sequence, it was b-e-a-utiful.
Though, not a sight for squeamish eyes. So pussaaays that cry at blood should go and see Alvin and the Chipmunks 2 instead or some shit.

In other news, I have a cold. Halt. I have a cold. A full attack nose block scent stealing bitch of a cold. I want to cry as I can no longer smell my strawberry body butter and my noses spontaneously runs every now and again. Yum yum.

I am now off to bed, whether I shall sleep or not is a lengthy debate not worthy of anyone's precious time. So ttfn and ma bbe Tigger sez.

It takes literally ten minutes in order for my room to turn into a re-enactment of a WWII bombing. Of course clothes, paper and peanut butter cups wrappers smother my floor; not shrapnel. All is the result of looking for one mere garment of clothing that I have the urge to wear. Sometimes I hate being a girl.
At least this mess is an excuse to whack out Hetty the hoover, Henry's fit wife. I still can't believe my Mum paid £100 for her though. Is that the normal price for a hoover? I shall have to inspect the nearest hoover selling shop.
Bye now.

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Actual blogging, not posing.

I decided to invest in an actual blog rather than keep my Tumblr any longer.
Mainly as too many people I actually know now have it and just post pictures of thighs and chanel related poo.

I am currently stuck to my beautiful IKEA chair in my P.E shorts. They were more convinient than my frog themed pyjama bottoms as they have a beautiful splodge of blue nail polish on the knee and I was going for the clean academic look on this boring Friday night alone. In my room. That my cat keeps trying to burrow into.
Fuck off Ziggy, plaster doesn't fall for your bitching claws. Though carpet does and I got trapped in my room for a mere minute, as he clawed the carpet up.

I hope he got carpet burn.