I don't like to blog when I'm not in good form, I only end up with melodramatic posts like last Thursday's. Nobody likes a whingey bird, and fewer people still like poetry. So I'm going to get my shit together this week, cop on, get out, all that shite, and I'll soon be in flying fettle and wittering wittily about:
- My night out with the boys last Tuesday, which caused me to bypass Wednesday like it was a nasty little midlands town
- My night in with the New Parents on Friday, where I pretended rather uncomfortably to be a grown-up who likes dinner parties
- What a fucking disappointment Superbad was
- My anxieties about an upcoming family gathering that I've taken to calling (uncharitably) The Séance
- The origins of the phrase "in your la-las" (an oft-used one in our house, meaning to be in uncharacteristically dire humour (like I have been for the past week)
