I’ve been away for a few weeks in the U-S-of-A, and there is far too much to rant about for one post, so I shall come back to that soon. I probably won’t.
In the mean-time, have a happy 2013. It baffles me that the world went schizo over the Mayans predicting the end of the world, yet nobody has yet thrown a hissy fit over the fact that for one whole year, we are going to be all about the big THIRTEEN. Hashtag unlucky.
Within hours of it being the new year, I have managed to set light to my hair whilst cooking myself a drunken feast (note: if you have exceedingly long hair, it’s best not to lean over the cooker. In fact, it’s best not to cook whilst drunk. In fact, I should probably go and check that I turned the fire off.)
I also managed to have a run in with the school bully on the way home. How is it, at 25 and a half years of age, Fat Lee still makes me quake in my boots? Actually, probably ’cause he’s Fat Lee – the earth trembles beneath him. Yo mama.
One more gripe – I am so inanely bored of seeing Facebook statuses telling me how many “ups and downs” everyone has had this year, or how they’re going to “kick this year’s arse”. We all know in a year’s time, the people who thought they were going to kick this year’s arse will be complaining over how many ups and downs they’ve had this year. That is life. GET OVER IT. And don’t shit all over my newsfeed.
Bah humbug and a merry fucking new year.
the ball-ache diaries 
The number thirteen has never bothered me, but fourteen scares the hell out of me.
My phobia is the number 20 – which makes living in this century a total bitch.
Amen sister! I can not be held responsible for my actions if I see another stupid ‘2012 emotional roller coaster’ status!
2nd day of 2013 and I am STILL seeing this bull-crap clog up my screens. 2012 is SO last year…