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[18 Oct 2003|10:31am] |
I hate Chris Tarrant. The amount of shit i had to endure purchasing this sodding WWTBAM2 game for David is beyond measure. The bloody thing has finally arrived today, albiet with Chris' gnarly, gormless and grinning face like a sodding hateful beacon on the cover. The sooner i get it to Dave the better.
Oh fuck. Mother has got the vacuum cleaner out. The word obtrusive springs to mind. And the words "Fuck" and "Help me"
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[18 Oct 2003|10:45am] |
You know diary, you really ought to remind me that my next appointment with the counsellor is on the twenty third, being this Thursday. Because i had forgotten all about it. And if i'm right, missing appointments carries a fairly hefty fine....
Train companies in the U.K are looking for an extra £8 billion, to carry out "improvements", and to generally run the rail service. Presumably this means enough vending machines in the staffrooms, and enough jobsworths to badger you for a fucking ticket, whilst you're on the platform waiting for a train that is twenty minutes late. Wonderful service, eh? Fucking hell. The desire to take up driving has never been so great. All the while we are supposed to be being lured onto public transport, a collosal irony as we're going to have to pay an extra fifty one pounds a year tax for it to even be running adequately. Mmmm...who could refuse? Anyway, enough of this.
Last night was what you would call "mawkish". I did cram my face silly with the most untouchable chicken and asparagus lasagne though. Yum, and if you will, yum.
Squall and Co are in Lunatic Pandora. We still need more ultimate weapons. And Eden. I'll get that bloody Ultimecia, mate. You know it. Yes.
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