Wow, still with the writer's block. What is wrong with me tonight? Perhaps I've used up my quota of words for the day. Isn't there some stupid statistic about women using several thousand more words per day than men? Perhaps I've gone over my allocation and i'm not allowed to talk anymore. Which would make for a crappy blog I feel.
I've run out of interesting things to debate and discuss tonight. Although I am intrigued by the concept of Eminem's new video in which he takes the piss out of Amy *High Barnet* winehouse and Blake Double-barrelledposhboy. In fact the lyrics revolve around Amy allegedly wanting to help Blake out of jail by smuggling a file in a cake into the prison. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Eminem in prison? For drugs? And other song-writing material wrongdoings? Pot kettle black. Eminem is getting a little tiresome now. Its all bit clever clever. Sometimes I think he's some terrible form of viral marketing for a stage school and he's actually some WASPy friend of Dorothy living in a duplex in Provincetown. All his cool rapper hip hop friends were paid for by his mummy. Although why anyone would want to lie and say they grew up in a trailer park is beyond me, so it is possible I am wrong.
It seems that most of London is gearing up for the mass easter exodus. Although SB and I are being very daring and - rather than cram ourselves on a first great western train to cardiff tomorrow night (and I do so love standing up for 200 miles) - leaving any travelling to the rather more civilised hour of lunchtime on Friday. Ostensibly this is so that I can force myself to go to the gym on friday morning befor the annual Easter egg binge fest that traditionally overcomes me this weekend. And creme eggs make my teeth hurt but that doesn't stop me guzzling them like chocolate armageddon is on its way and taking no prisoners. However friday morning is more likely to involve waking up in a simillar fashion to the famous scene in FW&AF - whereby the alarm clock is switched off, only for me to wake up 2 hours later with only the word *fuck* in my vocabulary. Packing is therefore not only hasty, but random - with no semblance of any kind of wardrobe or matching outfits. Additionally we have decided to put our wedding invites together in Wales, so I'm fairly sure just as we reach the outskirts of Bristol, i'll realise I've left the address list at home. Such are my organisational skills. But all will be saved by the possibility of a civilised drink in Cardiff followed by 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep on Friday night. Blissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
And that's where I'll leave you tonight. Sorry it's been a short one, after yesterday's events, i'm not feeling massively talkative and it's bloody late for me to be writing this one - and on a school night too. Live long + prosper. Thank you and good night
Stupidgirl has left the building