July 25, 2005

Que no, que no, que nooooooooooo

Wow, a Warwick background.

Anyway, I wish to apologise for my long absence from the world of blog. I'm a lazy shit.

I'm currently in Spain with my boyfriend Miggy Mig Wig Barbie Reindeer. But most people just call him Miguel. I've soooo much to relate about life out here, but I just canīt be arsed really. I've written too many emails about it to write it all again here. One day I'll copy and paste all the info. Maybe. Well, I don't suppose you all really care much anyway. I used to think, 'what's the point of this blog, livejournal etc.. rubbish, because no one really reads it and if they do they donīt care.' But now I think itīs enough that I read it. It's like having a normal diary, except your friends can read it if they want to.

It's actually much better than having a hand-written diary because my brother can't read all my private thoughts and deface my diary like he used to. I think my mum used to read my diary too. I also think the other day she found my vibrator – she tidied my room and after the vibrator was in a different place to where I'd left left it (although it was in a bag, I didn't just leave it lying around for all to see) and later my mum made some comment, I can't even remember what it was now, that made me think, "she DEFINITELY found it."

But never mind, eh?

Doo doo doo, what to say, what to say?

Well I have nothing to say, so thatīs what Iīll say: Nothing.

Oh actually I do have something else to say. If anyone else has any hilarious yet inappropriate 'my mum found my 12 inch butt plug' or 'my mum walked in on me having a 3some with some hookers' or 'my mum walked in when I was giving the local vicar a black kiss' stories post them here for all to sympathise or say 'what the fuck is the matter with you?'

Ciao pumpkins.

November 04, 2004

Which is better – hot chocolate or orange juice?

God, I'm so tired. I keep going to bed at about 8am and then being rudely awoken at midday by people in my halls. What do they think they're doing making noise at that time? They obviously don't give a shit about people who are trying to sleep.

Anyway, my tiredness isn't helped by the fact that my lectures are all really boring. I suppose you'll all say it's my own fault for doing Maths, but seriously, I didn't expect it to be this boring.

Well, I don't want to spend this entire entry complaining. Why don't I ramble on about something positive? Like the fact that since the 26th of October I have officially been TWENTY years old! That's right, I am no longer a teenager. I'm in my 20s! Although I have to admit, it doesn't feel that great. For a start I just don't think I'm MATURE enough to be in my 20s. I'm so childish. And I still feel like I'm about 12. Secondly, most of my birthday cards contained the phrase 'Happy Birthday Claire, now you're old'. But they're right; I AM old. Next thing I'll be in my 30s, then 40s, then 50s, then I'll be really old and practically dead. Scary thought, especially for an atheist. Everyone's an atheist nowadays. It's the fashion.

On the morning of my birthday I RAN to the post box, opened it up excitedly and found… not a single card. What a disappointment. I got some nice presents though. Including a bottle of wine called 'Old Tart' from the people in my kitchen. It's amazing how well they've got to know me in just 5 weeks!

Well, I don't want to ramble on for too long or else no one will read this entry. And I've got a stupid Foundations test tomorrow, and I think I'm supposed to revise for it or something. Actually Rich and I are supposed to be revising together, and he's supposed to be cooking me dinner, but when we got to Jack Martin he started talking to this girl he fancies on MSN and I had to go home! Charming! What a bastard, eh?

October 21, 2004

I REALLY need to buy some nail clippers

Hello again my little friends,

A big thanks to Lucy Debuse, my new best friend (although I don't think she knows it) and the ONLY person who replied to my entry. Not that I was expecting any replies, so it was a pleasant surprise.

I'm feeling really drained at the moment. I hate Thursdays. I've had 8 hours of lectures, classes and tutorials today. I have 21 hours a week. It's not fair. Everyone else I speak to has about 5. Why did I choose Maths? Why didn't I choose Law? Then I could be studying incest and S&M (not that I'm into that kind of stuff. Well, I wouldn't mind trying out the latter, but incest is NOT my bag baby).

I also feel crappy because in the 2 hour Analysis class today I didn't manage to get any assignments done. In fact, I'm still on assignment 1 (I don't understand it) whereas everyone else seems to be on assignment 11 or thereabouts. Whoops. I HATE Analysis. It's incomprehensible shit. I may have to copy Rich's work again (but I'm NOT using you Rich, I promise!) I'm sure our supervisor Sexy Nigel wouldn't mind. Ned really fancies him (but I don't).

Talking of Ned, in Analysis today he was being really mean to me. He's such a poo head.

It's my birthday in 5 days! Ooooh, the excitement! I shall soon no longer be a teenager. I'll be in my twenties! IN MY TWENTIES! That means I'll have to be all grown-up and responsible. :( But at least it's an excuse to get drunk (not that I need one. At least this time other people will be buying the drinks for me. Can you believe that on the continent people have to buy other people drinks on their own birthday? What a joke!).

Well, I'm going to revise for the Foundations test tomorrow. And I've got much work to do because my friend J is coming to visit tomorrow and I don't want to have to be doing homework while she's here. I think I may not bother with the Analysis actually. I can't be arsed.

October 11, 2004

A brief glimpse into the psyche of a very strange person

Hey there everyone!

For all those of you who don't know me (what the hell are you doing looking at my blog?), I am a first year mathematician. I know what you're thinking, but it's not as bad as it sounds; I'm not sad, neither am I clever, I just copy Rich Roope's work the whole time. I am merely a mirror of his own intelligence. Oh well. It's better than being a toilet seat. Especially if a really fat person with a spotty bum needs to have a crap.

Anyway, I am member of new Rootes, in L Block (biggin' it up with the fucking L Block massive, innit?). I don't know why I just wrote that, but I won't delete it now. You all deserve to know about my mental illness.

I don't have a mental illness actually (at least, not as far as I'm aware), but I do have a sickle cell trait. It just means that my blood cells are inferior to yours (unless you also have a sickle cell trait, in which case: ha ha!). It only happens in people of West Indian extraction. My mum's Jamaican, hence my sickle cell trait and dashing, exotic good looks… I've only been to Jamaica twice though, and I haven't been since I was 10. I'm an Orpingtonian, born and bred (you may have seen the crappy town that is Orpington in that Honda advert – my home town is famous! It was also apparently famous for cock fighting a few hundred years ago. No, not that kind of cock you sicko).

Oh dear, I have waffled, haven't I. I doubt anyone is even going to look at this page. Well, never mind, it's wasted a few precious minutes of my existence, bringing me closer to my imminent death. I really fancy a tangerine right now, so I'm going.

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  • I would just like to say that I ardently deny having ever stolen anyone's name, the name 'Claire Mor… by on this entry
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