UnderAchiever Alice

As I’m so broke nowadays, I have learnt that if I don’t check the best before date on the cheesy strings that I purchase from the cheap shop down the road then I can’t tell if it’s out of date or not. I’ve come to find the gamble thrilling rather than sicking. Oh, what a life!

I am currently sitting on my Wife’s bed, in tights that are littered with holes and a hangover that would make Iron Man tremble with fear. I feel like there’s a barrier on the brink of my mind, stopping me from having any reasonable or productive thoughts. I can’t remember who we went on Chat Roulette with, I can’t remember how much I drank, I can’t remember if I have any money to get food for the weekend. I’m a drunk/hungover broke virgin. I need a cupcake.

I don’t like it when Barlow wipes the crumbs off of the pillow. There’s no point in the crumbs being brushed off onto the floor, when I’m just going to put my poptart back on the pillow, resulting in more crumbs. Crumbs are annoying in bed, I know, but I don’t see what the point is in cleaning something when it’s about to get dirty again.

At the end of this rant, Barlow informs me that the only reason she cleaned the pillow that was serving as my plate was because there was a hair on it. She didn’t want me to end up eating the hair. Oh well.

If you’re lucky, one day I’ll let you read it.

Just realised that one of the guys tuned my guitar last night. Pretty stoked that I can now stop offering people buttons, my virginity and home made scones in exchange for them to tune it. What a life!

my bedroom smells like raspberry absolute vodka, I can’t find my glasses, and I think I drank more alcohol last night than there is water in my body. Shit.

I’m going to clean my room, then have a shower. I’m also contemplating painting my guitar, but I don’t know if I’ve even got any paint in my bedroom or if it’s all at the studio. );
Going out tonight for my last night in Canterbury until 2012! So I’m expecting a lot of very classy drunk photos…