Monday, 14 March 2011

Spring is here.



Last wednesday after a eventful night which involved getting half naked on a dance floor, I picked a selection of daffs on the way back to Patrick's. This morning they bloomed. It is official, spring is here and it's apparently sponsored by Redstripe.

Spring is the traditional and ancient symbol of rebirth and new beginnings. I've decided to take control of this season. I am now in search of a Spring slice, as fresh and innocent as a march Lamb. I have taken many steps to finding a spring slice. I joined the infamous Market Gate halls of residence facebook group, I've decided to play it cool by only posting bulletin like " I'm single and bored, who wants me?" the last thing I want is to come across as desperate.
Why Market gate? Sure, it is full of Trannies, goths and kids with Dubstep issues however everyone knows the only thing worse than knocking off a 'Gater' is not knocking off a Gater at all.

I am also on the hunt for a day job. But finding a day job in Bristol is like finding a Birkin in oxfam, twice.
The options are... hmmm... call centers, but what's the point of working somewhere if people are unable to appreciate one's virtuous beauty. Besides, getting paid to sit on my arse all day would make me feel like an invalid . The other option is retail, though unless the retail outlet particulary pikey, Brisol has a real emphasis on staff being cool and/or good looking (which is ironic as working in a shop isn't cool anywhere else) I've applied countless, unimaginable, unthinkable times, It just so happens I've never been cool enough for any shop.


I'm currently still making my Persian Lamb jacket. It's been a labour of love to say the least. I want to complete it so I can wear it tomorrow night.

Things that make you go HMMMMMMM

- Tabi and Pete were spotted galavanting at Thekla on Thursday. Have they made up? Are they back together? Does anyone care?






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