stop pretending to be vegan and eat the fucking butter

rate my date rape.

i've had lots of interesting thoughts recentlys, so i should have some good lyrics coming out for once.

i had a lovely weekend at home, slightly marred by the shadow uncle anthony cast over saturday. i can't be bothered to go through the whole day's phone calls but suffice to say, he arrived at town end farm about half 11 to use our scanner because some urgent documents needed to be emailed to his girlfriend in brazil for her meeting with the british consulate. about an hour of his bank statements, tenancy agreements and business accounts later, we were emailing them off and he was leaving. not five minutes out of the door and the phone rang. it was quarter to one.
"'ello?? 'ello? is tony there?"
"he's just left, andresa."
"did you send those documents?"
"yes. we've just finished."
"oh, ok. sorry to disturb you."

oy, it's just lucky i was there at all. what on earth would he have done without me?
actually, if i hadn't have been there, i'd have been at the flat, which would have been a fuckload more convienent. so forget this paragraph.

hopefully i'll be able to drag a reportage of the topshop opening party out of my mind, but there was free booze of several kinds so while it was absolutely fascinating at the time, i can't recall much despite some crazy notes i wrote on my phone. i must get into the habit of taking a note book out again.
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