4:25 am, I get up and piss. I had full on dreams, but I seem to be forgetting them as soon as I wake up now a days.
I was having some weird dreams which I thought I’d remember, but of course I don’t.
After I went back to bed, my mate Jeff Titan (who I have always fancied, shh, don't tell anyone) is in his undies drinking lime daiquiris while a Filipino woman called Hilda did a pedicure with him sitting there with cottonwool between his toes? He has nice thick, bare thighs coming out of his white Calvins.
7am. I make coffee and I sign into work.
I realise the expected immanent heart attack, from the last few days, is just muscle pain from the pimple on my left tit that I keep scratching, and have been scratching, absentmindedly. Stupid me.
I'm listening to Sam Smith. I was always a fan of his second album, but I am liking his other albums now too.
Charlie was going to be overseas with his mother until he went back to uni, but he announces he'll be back soon, in a week. Sam is pissed off as he was enjoying not having to cook for him. There is a whole family drama going on with his mother and her boyfriend and it appears Charlie is now bailing on them.
I wish I could bail on the drama, but Sam is making my ears bleed with constant updates.
I sign out of work early, when I have no more work to do.
And that is the end of my week.
No comments:
Post a Comment