Stag Weekends: Dirty Secrets

Exeter next weekend? Probably should.

Lots to say but no incentive or inclination to say it. Had an interview this morning during which they sprung several tests on me so I'm not entirely sure how went despite the fact that the conversation part of the interview certainly went well enough.

Busy couple of weekends ahead. I can't wait to have my hair done in the next couple of weeks and get rid of all the fake stuff - will mean I'm able to get back to swimming regularly which I'm absolutely desperate for because I'm pretty certain my lung capacity has reduced since I stopped swimming which can actually be quite scary sometimes like when you concentrate on your breathing and it suddenly seems like the most abnormal bodily function ever. mmmm.

I need to go on holiday with someone lovely, somewhere autumnal and cultural. I need to stop being such a headfuck. I need to move out. Not in that order.

Charity gig tomorrow night to raise money for the RSPCA at South Hill Park in Bracknell, 8.00pm - you should all come. Vintage fair tuesday night 6pm, seeing lots of pretty faces next week and will be back and forth from London every few days doing the rounds.

Still contemplating a nose job.

When you order from Ann Summers do they post in a discreet bag or emblazon your goodies all over the packaging? Answers on a postcard.

The girl remains aloof

Some of us were born to be single.

Message from a friend today after the "basket case" discussion

"P.s. Apparently a basket case is "One that is in a completely hopeless or useless condition." Just my type."

One minute I'm a little sweetheart, the next minute you are an absolute creep.

Every conversation, every phonecall, is a battle, and you insist on playing dirty.

Sometimes I don't think we live in the same world.

I don't know what to do about it. It would be very easy to walk away.

We'd both get over it.

Lights of the cars go by in streams - seems like I stand pretty much unseen

All my money has gone.

I have no petrol.

If my car doesn't start tomorrow, my parents will find out I have no petrol.

I will be asked how I have spent nearly £2000 in a month considering I don't pay rent or bills.

I will be forced to say "I bought studded thigh-high boots and a Balmain replica".

I haven't even done my Christmas shopping.

I can't go to London tomorrow night.

I have tried my absolute best not to be - but I have resigned myself to the fact I am definitely going to be single for the rest of my life.

I'm not even sad about it. I think I should be.

I want my hair to grow faster.

I need to go on holiday.

I need to read a really good book I've been alternating between reading absolute trash and the Financial times for the past year. So, yeah, absolute trash.

I read a letter I wrote to you when we were 14 yesterday predicting this exact thing would happen and saying I knew we'd pull through. I really hope we do and I'm terrified.

I hate that the battery in my central locking key is running out.

I hate that instead of puting the key in the lock I still stubbornly stand there for minutes on end trying to get the electronic key to work.

I really wish people would stop interfering.

It's not the money Eddy... It's the horrible realisation I must have enjoyed ping-pong.

What became of the New Romantics?

If ever a look needed bringing back...

These sensations barely interest me for another day - I've got the spirit, lose the feeling take the shock away.