it’s snowing, do i:
(a) do my work that i really need to do?
(b) do all the other things i’ve promised people i’d do for them?
(c) organise my (highly important) clinical elective placements?
(d) build a snowman?
hmmmmmm…
xxx.
it’s snowing, do i:
(a) do my work that i really need to do?
(b) do all the other things i’ve promised people i’d do for them?
(c) organise my (highly important) clinical elective placements?
(d) build a snowman?
hmmmmmm…
xxx.
i’m really immature. last weekend i went out with my mate and played ‘ed’.
‘ed’ is a cooool game we made up. it’s based on that t.v. show called… well… ‘ed’! in the show, the guys can’t refuse a dare. so… we went out, got… a bit squiffy ;) some confidence up, and got to thinking up dares for eachother, one each, to be made at the end of the night.
so… after the pubs closed… my mate went first. his was not so bad as i was i feared it would be! he made me send a filthy suggestive text message to this girl that i’ve been onoff onoff with for aaaages, never getting anywhere. all a bit of a complex situation, really. anyway – i sent the text. result: irate phone call which metamorphosed into a date which metamorphosed into me remembering exactly why it was onOFF onOFF all the time.
NB – this was not a ‘date’ date, i hasten to add. more a catch up date type date. i turned up with no intentions and left with fewer.
now, i know what you’re all wondering… what did i make my mate do?
well… i made him kiss someone.
our local tramp.
nice.
xxx.
... latest plan for totally immature behaviour. i have a mate who lives down my road. he has a balcony. said balcony overlooks the local main thoroughfare. it is summer. ok, the scene is set. today i spent a goodly amount of my highly valuable time creating scorecards. like in competitions or whatever. i took some cardboard sheeting, painted it white and cut it into squares. i made three sets and added big, black numbers from ‘1’ through to ‘8’. i figured i could save time becasue nobody needs sixes and nines. anyway, the plan is… crack open a coupla bottles, kick back on the balcony, and score the girls swanning past in all their glory down below.
yea, i’m never growing up.
xxx.
not in the sense where i die. no thank you. i want to live forever and never EVER grow up, if you please.
xxx.