|
|
|
| | | | |
|
Photo magic
13.06.06, 1:55 pm
I feel a lot better for getting all that whining out of my system � and am also feeling a little less tired today � so as a reward this entry will be containing mostly nice pictures and relatively little text. I have no new news either, bar feeling slightly guilty about sending that abusive questionnaire back, as it�s gone back to some random stranger in Harrow who clearly has no idea at all about my plight with the Royal Hallamshire Hospital. Plus this stranger belongs to an independent research group, and therefore isn�t even indirectly responsible by being employed by the STUPID FUCKING NHS THAT JUST CONTINUALLY SUCKS TAXES INTO ITS VACUOUS HOLE OF UTTER SHITENESS AND WANKDOM. What�s that? Your grandmother needs an operation so that she can regain the use of her legs? Well, we�ll just shove her at the bottom of a non-moving waiting list until the end of time whilst your nobhead uncle remembers to give her a ring once a fortnight to check that she hasn�t fallen over and died. Actually visiting her requires too much effort, as he�s too busy whoring it off to Ireland to see his bit on the side. Meanwhile, bloody Wayne Rooney gets fucking MRI scans just for one sodding broken toe as and when he feels like it. What�s wrong with a simple x-ray? Why is his Shreky face everywhere I turn? Why am I veering so far off my original point? The only other event making the headlines is that my new jeans are a wee bit tight and I�m not sure whether to just leave them alone until I�ve lost some weight, or wear them solidly for the next week in the hope that they�ll stretch and then never ever wash them so that they don�t shrink back. I shall be sure to let you know what my decision is. 
So, there we all are having our barbeque across the street on the grass. It goes Em, me, Hannah, Jess (lives opposite us), random friend of Michelle�s whose name I have sadly forgotten, Suneela (Michelle�s friend) and Michelle, in her rightful seat as Master Barbequer. 
And that is my house. Anyone in Sheffield reading this can totally come stalk me now.
I forgot to mention that we had a laser gun battle later on in the semi-darkness. That is Michelle, Dave and Mel all trying to look like they�re not 13.
We�re now in Fuzz Club and I�m sat on the floor looking like the original Sweaty Grossness.
I was then told to make a stupid face.
Mel also had a go.
But none can defeat the mighty Michelle.
Here we are in Bolton Abby grounds � it was seriously gorgeous there.
Squee!
One of the many reasons why I love Michelle so very much.
Me, Em, Dave and Michelle posing on the bridge with some random person�s dog.
So these are the infamous Brimham Rocks, complete with a plaque telling you what all their names are.
Dave was well grumpy at the start, reckoning that he had a bit of a hangover, but as soon as we got to the Rocks he perked right up, which makes me think that he�s actually an 8 year old trapped in a 21 year old�s body.
On a random rock somewhere squinting into the camera, with me trying to ward off the dizziness by sitting down (usually works).
That shot took three thousand years to set up, and is about take 4 as the camera kept falling over and making us feel a bit guilty for abusing Mel�s pride and joy.
Clearly those arms can handle any weight.
I�m pretty sure I�m asleep here, but even if I�m not I�m clearly not fulfilling my map reading obligation that comes with riding shotgun.
So here�s me and all the kids at bowling magic. In case you don�t know them by now (Lisa�s known them for going on three years and still gets them mixed up) it goes Becky, Em, Mel, Michelle, Vicky, me and Hannah. Hannah�s hating most of us at this point because her group got lost on the way to the bowling alley and it was apparently all our fault.Okay, that�s your lot. I�m about to head off to Co-op to buy some food, before settling down to watch yet more World Cup matches between teams that I have no interest in whatsoever. Job searching�s going great, thanks for asking.
last - next
|
|
| | | | |
|