In the pub on Sunday, who should walk in but #1's ex boyfriend... with the girl he dumped #1 for. It was kind of awkward, although this new bint didn't know anything. Oh yeah, and she's a DOG. His loss.
Today I was loitering outside school (which omg reminds me - today I saw a man wearing just a mac, with no trousers, walking down the street) ANYWAY yes I was loitering outside school and who should come over but a guy I was at sixth form with. I was tempted to ask him if I was still the last girl he'd kissed (he's gay, and told me that kissing me had been a horrible experience) but I decided against it.
At the gym I managed to shave a whole second off my 2000m rowing. I was so very nearly sick. Then I took my feet out of the foot holding thing (christ, I'm verging on illiteracy these days - what happened to my vocabulary?) and they were covered in blood. I had to clean the machine. Moral of the story = wear socks.
My brother ate 2 pizzas. I was impressed. Fucking hell, if this reads like drivel you should hear me in person.
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