I feel like a child on Christmas Eve today...this is a necessarily short blog as I'm about to jet down to Brighton as quickly as I can to catch a play by some fabulous folks who live on the South coast. I am taking a 3 day weekend. Oh yeah!
Mixing it up like a proper pro I am. What's that Saturday and Sunday? No. No you're not enough for me this week...I need more. I need Friday. I'm taking Friday, wrenching her from the clutches of the weekday coven and adding her to my fun bag of weekend delights. Incidentally I have gendered all of the days of the week.
Monday - male, wears a suit, works in I.T.
Tuesday - female, reads paperback books and wears suede shoes.
Wednesday - female, large with glasses and an irritating voice.
Thursday - female, likes red wine, has cats, is quiet.
Friday - female, slut.
Saturday - young boy, wears shorts. Athletic.
Sunday - older man, bearded, secretly likes watching Britain's Got Talent. Probably a Grandfather.
I'm taking my slut tomorrow and smashing up the dolphin derby on Brighton pier, then I'm jetting up to Cambridge (I say jetting - I'm going in a vauxhall) for a gig, back down to London for a party, over to South West London for an audition and then hopefully cramming in some sleep somewhere along the way. Sleep? Ah, yes sleep. I miss sleep. Sleep is that thing where your brain shuts off for a while. Delicious.
Had an awesome gig last night down with the lovely people of the London Festival Fringe Radio...gigged like a proper demon and got asked to come back on at the end and do the lovely crowd a bit more material. Stupendous. What more could a girl want? To be asked back as the presenter for the next week's show? Well, good job that happened too than isn't it. What a way to spend a booming voiced owl lady day.
I'm about to go and find my train - if any of you are waiting for me at Victoria with a skinny hot chocolate, no cream, then I'll know today's been brilliant. If you aren't then I'm blaming the fact that I recently changed my conditioner and my hair is now epically static and constantly stuck to my face. Either way not my fault.
PS - (and this has been bugging me for 20 hours or so now) to anyone who was in the audience of my gig last night - my breasts are definitely real. What on earth was I thinking?
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