Flappy Bird must die.
A mixed day today.
No, I do not wish to discuss the marks for my Broadcast Law essay, but will merely say that there’s no point getting angry, or annoyed, or upset about it, because I can’t change it. I shall focus on the remaining modules I’ve got, and just move forwards.
It’s a sad, sad day when you end up having a chat with a taxi driver about being concerned at reaching a particular age without really having done much.
When I’m in the house on my own, I talk to myself.
After what feels like an absolute age, I finally got round to seeing Frozen tonight.
I like Sundays.
There’s a point in every girl’s life where she grows to love her friends.
There’s also a point in every girl’s life where she grows tired of her friends, because they’re the type to furnish her with a ridiculous nickname.
This week’s Friday feeling is brought to you by:
Thank the maker it’s the weekend, that’s all I’m saying.
I’ve found a sure fire way of working out if a chap is worth your time or not.
You tell him the you’re doing a radio show. He listens to said radio show and still wants to talk to you, despite an extended link about zoophilia.
A night of recording parodies, an afternoon of opening bottles of cheap beer and a morning lie in have reminded me why I do definitely enjoy enjoy university.