Thursday, November 17, 2011

Good Hustle

Urgh, there's something about sitting at a desk all day with Sky News blaring in the background that just erases all traces of potential funny from your brain. I've started and deleted this blog 3 times now because I just can't think of anything even remotely whimsical and I really don't have the energy to field the grumpy responses that would follow up any post about racism in football or the economic crisis.

Obviously, the angry responses to either of those posts would be very different:

Racism in football: "Hey sheltered white girl, how dare you express any opinion on something that doesn't directly affect you. I deliberately didn't read the bit where you said it was only your opinion and you were happy if people didn't agree."

Economic crisis: "Hey sheltered white girl, it wasn't caused by Charlie Sheen and it couldn't be solved by Scrooge McDuck just being less of an asshole."

So I won't write them. But I have residual grumpiness from the day and being bombarded by the stuff on the shiny box of world news all day. So you should know that... and on the off chance there's a minute joke somewhere in this blog I want you to know it trawled through a whole heap of crapola to get out of my brain. Picture one of those little turtles that gets born up in a whole at the top of the beach and then has to get all the way down through icky gritty sand to the water. My jokes are baby turtles.

In fact let's just consider that, for the purposes of this blog, turtles are dead. If you were here expecting some kind of tide of flippery shelled up minibeasts then just go away now. You are just the next in a long line of people I am disappointing at the moment. You're not special. Neither of us are special and there are no fucking turtles left. What a day.

The ridiculous thing is that I could stop writing this drivel at any point and we could all just end this ridiculous turtle based charade but I appear to be still typing and you are still here. One of us has serious issues. It's one thing to wake up in a funk and have the whole day to get out of it but when you're trying to go sleep and you're grumpy you just have to lie there and hope that sleep is stronger than the negativity. Sleep never beats negativity and you will inevitably end up dreaming about being face stroked by David Cameron's uncannily plasticy ball sack. Sleep is the paper to negativity's scissors.

I blame Thursday. Thursday is a stupid day of the week - there are still 6 days until the next Frozen Planet, I cannot lie in tomorrow morning because I'm off money earning and my room isn't tidy any more. My room isn't tidy any more because I was too grumpy to put my clothes away when I took them off so I've just left them in that little piled up heap that you see a lot on the floors of 6 year olds. Should there be an apostrophe somewhere in that last sentence?

This might be noteworthy: I briefly wondered today whether I could turn it into a quirky "Lauraism" to sleep only wearing a woolly hat. But then I was going to bed and my housemate needed some help with something and I wasn't wearing pyjamas so that was awkward. There's a big difference between a quirky "Lauraism" and a "Lauraism" that keeps you living alone well into your 50s.

Ok, well turns out that wasn't particularly noteworthy so I hereby give up. Night all.

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