Fridays. Snore.. School was so awful, Izzie and I just had to escape the evil clutches of the language departments "quiz time."
So, after school Izzie and I went trekking up "Mount Fitterist". In other words, we went into town to spot boys. Sucess rate = depressingly low. Even the Jack Wills shop attendants were spotty and greasy haired today. What has the world come to?!
Encountered Jason Pink (sighs and swoons) and his mates up at the castle. They were all laughing their heads off at Sean O'Grady, who was snorting rainbow dust. Okay, so it's pretty impressive that he got the pink and the yellow section both sucked up his conk before exploding, (almost), but it was insanley gross.
'Not cool,' Izzie noted as we watched from the sidelines.
I nodded in agreement, as Sean downed another Red Bull before begining on his next tube of rainbow dust.
Woke up with cat on my face. Sneezed, got up, made breakfast then realised I felt ill. Went back to bed with a cold hot water bottle (mum won't let me use the kettle without adult supervision because of the Hot Chocolate Insident last Christmas.)
Still feel absolutley pants. There's some sort of fair down in the village today, and apparently I have to take Demon Child 1 and Demon Child 2 with me.
There really isn't a better way to spend your Saturday than with two hyperactive six year olds, both possesed by the Devil, I'm sure of it. Only last Tuesday, Demon Child 1 attempted to make Roast Cat for dinner.
Sure, sure, I get a lecture about letting them roam in the kitchen, but seriously, how did she know how to open the oven, turn it on and get the cat half inside?
Even I get stuck with the opening part. (The handle jams and you have to yank it so hard you fall onto the lino on your bum.) If I'm on my own and am in need of a hot meal, I stick leftover spag bol in the microwave and eat it out of a bowl watching Top Gear.