Posted on 3 January, 2008


It might be me, but isn’t applying for jobs just like water torture? Given the choice between filling out uniform forms or scraping my fists against a rock until my knuckles wore away, I would choose the latter. At least if I had no knuckles I’d have an excuse not to fill out forms, ne?

Hate not being able to shop too. I’m like a butterfly whose lost her wings, I really am. Shoes call to me on a very high frequency. Slipping a new shoe on is just so seductively divine, like diving into a lake of silky chocolate, at sunset, in the Masamara. If vaginas were the same shape as shoes I’d probably be a lesbian.


No shoes, many forms, eurrrgg. In olden times you had to crawl on your belly over jagged glass  to get a job. I haven’t checked, but I know it’s true. And everyone was happier then, and had more shoes.

Three days in and I’m already looking backward…2005 was a fabulous year. Outstanding. 2004 was pretty gorgeous and 2006 had some lovely shagging but 2005 was just roses blooming, lovebirds cooing, babies gurgling beautiful.

Still, you have to play the hand you have, don’t you? It’s all a bit pear-shaped and shitty right now, and I’m probably just a few weeks away from sobbing on the kitchen floor, dribbling wine over myself, but – I’ve been down this little cul-de-sac before. I know the magic words (Fuck it), so before things get too bad I can fuck off somewhere. And maybe they won’t?

Thing on tv before about a maximum security prison. Cheered me up because:

1. Even my grotty little flat isn’t as bad as a cell, and

2. Some of those prisoners were just delicious. Something about a rippled, muscled untameable bad man locked up all day and denied the pleasure of women…Hmmm…Time for me to go have some sweet dreams before I go to sleep.