Apparently, bugger is my swearword. Ha. Ha ha ha, even. I've been known to use much worse, and even my niece can testify. Be that as it may, it is my swearword as this told me, courtesy of the insider.
Truth is I've been saying bugger a lot lately. How can I put this. Things are not going too well, but even though it is tempting, I don't want to spend my time feeling sorry for myself here, as this isn't why I started this. Are you grateful? Are you grateful that I'm not dumping all the shit that's on my mind on you? Don't be, it's simply because I lack the necessary vocabulary in English.
To make matters worse, my cupboards are desperately lacking chocolate right now, and I've been craving it like a Mogwai craves water. Mind you, I have cocoa. If I added a little bit of water to it, made it into a paste, and left it in the fridge overnight, surely it will have turned to chocolate ersatz by tomorrow, right? Yeah, forget it, I'm no Willy Wonka and the shops will be open tomorrow. I'll get enough to last me a siege. And will have eaten it all by dusk.
Or I could watch An affair to remember and wallow at the fact that I'm never meeting Cary Grant on a boatcruise. Not to mention that I'm no Deborah Kerr. Or it could be Apocalypse now, and I could think of the benefits of napalm, as there are a few people I could use it on, to be sure.
I hate week-ends these days, that's the thing. Week-ends are for those who work. Plus my mum phones me on the week-ends. And asks questions. Preferably twice, like "so what else is new?". I'll answer "not much, you know" the first time, and five minutes later, it's "so what else is new?" again. And questions like "so, have you heard anything, work-wise?". Yeah, a circus has called to offer me a cannongirl position. It's in Uganda. They speak English there. I'm thinking of taking it.
Boy am I in a foul mood.