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Rebellious Socks

Socks are a pain in the arse. They get lost, they get holes in them, and they always fall onto the floor just as you’re taking the laundry out the machine. Raaah!

Been to see 21 Grams and Starsky and Hutch over the past couple of days. I have zero money to my name, so I’ve been surviving on anything that Rob and my friends treat me to. My dad arrived in England this morning, my friends still like to refer to him as the Sultan. They asked me if they had to bow or curtsey to him, so I showed them the old ‘salam’ thing. Showing off a bit of culture…heh. Anyway, so we’re in the midst in another battle of the better houses thing in Kenton Gardens. The girl’s house is havng a party on Friday night and so are the boys across the road. Whose is gonna crash and burn?! I say make it a block party but the neighbours aren’t going to see the funny side to that.

I’ve snuck onto Barry’s computer again. He left the house wearing a Santa hat and a can of beer with his mates, so I’m guessing (actually i know) he’s off to the bar for a monster razz session. All is good. I’ve not really been i ntouch with anyone lately, I’ve been pretty preoccupied with things. Dont make me say it…diss…er…tat…tion! Gah!

When things are going nicely and everything feels well good, you don’t seem to have alot to say.

About Angela

Angela lives in the UK with her cat Leo. She enjoys reading, gardening and recreationally fighting elderly women.

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