I did stay awake for my lesson after all, everything is fine and dandy and I'm finally beginning to get to grips with US foreign policy. *yawn* x 300
Saying that, I'm finding it less dull than I thought I would but still...where are the plagues? Where are the Monarchs and the Knights? It's all wrong!
Ireland calls to me. Again. I do not actually think I can ignore it for much longer. There is a reason for me to go there and it's strong and passionate.
No, I can't pick just one subject and write about that! *pokes tongue out*
I realised that, for the last three posts I've made on this here bloggy, I've used Morrissey/Smiths quotes as titles. I shall break the cycle. (Thanks go to Billy Connolly for today's title.)
Mum doesn't like my pink hair. The other day there was an advert on the tv - some woman with deep, Autumn-red hair showing us the unquenchable joys of moisturising hair dye and having the guts to buy herself new shoes because of said fabulous hair. Mum said "Oh, isn't that a lovely colour" in her kind, old woman voice (she has several voices - she's a robot, you see). Then she moved her head slowly towards me, looked at my hair (which at this time could only be described as 'rainbow') and then looked, slowly again, to my face with a look of uneasy disappointment.
...you had to be there.
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