SMS. 8.10. No singing 4 me sick kids, biting poohing weeing puppy, dickhead husband and what’s 2 sing about eh? – Rachel
SMS. 8.17. Sing along anyway. But as I gaze at the princess’ Theatre, it would have to be Whistle While You Work, as I head there – Christian
SMS. 8.18. Think I may take Oliver 2 South Melbourne market 4 a coffee. I hate my food job it makes me quite depressed. Working at urchin 2nite – Rachel
SMS. 8.19. I hate mine too – Christian
SMS. 8.20. I’m following a hot arse down Bourke Street – Christian
SMS. 8.20. Give it a pinch, make his day – Rachel
The solid boy from yesterday was walking down Bourke Street again with me today. He's a solid, good looking aussie boy; dark messy hair, blue eyes, pale skin. He stopped at the fruit stand and bought another apple, again this morning. I gazed at him, as I waited for the lights on Elizabeth. I want to lick his chops.
I went to mum's for dinner.
I think I'm coming down with something.
When I got home, Tim was watching House MD. He couldn't talk, he was so engrossed. He said he didn't think he had taken breath for half an hour.
I have a nasty tickle in the back of my throat, so I went to bed early.
Lovely seeing you the other week. When am I going to get an entertaining email again ;0)