'I have swam the lake of flames, walked forbidden tracks'

Just thought you all should know that:

...the changing rooms in Sainsbury's smell of wee :(

...being a builder/road workman/Tesco delivery man does not give you the earthly right to shout lude comments at anything with boobies. You pricks.

...giant, furry, Dr. Marten-wearing arachnids exist and they are everywhere. BEWARE.

...I started smoking when I was a teenager because I wanted to sing like Courtney Love. Thanks Ma'anit for reminding me of this wonderful weird little piece of my past. Though nobody seems to be able to remind me of why exactly I wanted to sing like Courtney Love in the first place. And I cannot fathom it to this day.

...I already have that divine thrust (lol) of wanderlust again. Where should I randomly move to once I've been in this job for a while? And why can I not stay in one place for more than a few months?

So my buddy, my pal James is back from the Greasey-land and this makes Joanna a happy girl. When I was in my early twenties I figured I'd already made all my best friends for life but I was wrong - over the past two years Sarah, Jo, and James have become (for fear of sounding like an Enid Blyton character) firm friends. Never underestimate the power of evolving and personal progression. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life who I click with on levels I never even thought possible.

I could go on but I don't want to gush. Err, that sounds gross.

My job starts on Monday. It's all a bit exciting. I've missed looking after people, it's one of the reasons I'm here and I thrive on it. I will have to stay organised if I want to fit everything I do now (and more because money will permit this) around work. I need a P.A. ...any takers?

Hmm, this entry has included lots of question marks. You don't need a psychology degree to work that one out!

This day in Joanna's life is dedicated to Mr. Stewart Copeland for being the main reason I blew all my inheritance money on a drum kit when I was fifteen. And for getting my feet (and legs, and hands) tapping stupidly and involuntarily to this very day.