The other morning I filed, buffed and polished my nails, as they were the longest they’ve been for ages -proud moment. Today -after one afternoon of revision they’re mostly gone. I hate stress, and worry. Bite bite bite fuck off.
I really don’t get, also, why the man on the check out in Tesco can’t comprehend the fact that if you have a horizontally packaged lasagne; you don’t pack it vertically. I’ve told him twice before, and today I was not in the mood. I gave him my tone of voice, and asked ‘Can you not do that’ (doesn’t sound too menacing but it’s all in the tone), and when he asked me if I had a club card I said ‘No’ as if in someway I was getting back at him. I wasn’t going to inconvenience myself finding my club card just because he asked me. Dick.
So I’m home now, and I’ve eaten way too many Kettle chips, I feel so freaking sick. Blerh.
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