im beat. six tsraight hrs of walking up and down Oxf street. never ever go for a bra fitting at La senza. My god! it's enough that i'd told the girl i had lost my boobs already but she went on and on giving me all these measurements, like im meant to know what they mean. we were both speaking english. I was talking to her, she was talking AT me. I told her i had to go somewhere and would return. i didn't. Im sure she was trying to be helpful but...

anyway, im a coupla cups down. I mean the evidence was staring her right in the face, well maybe closer to her belly button but hell. Then i tried buying trainers, did not have a size went up and down the fucking street. did not get my rouge lipstick. did not get a belt. did not manage my pit stop to anne summers.
im just knackered and wondering where my day went.

feet were swollen yesterday had to elevate thenm as i slept last night. No disturbing text from slave-boy today.

duno what i'll have for dinner. cooked for roommate and i last night and we polished off a bottle. god we were soo drunk.. ok just a little tipsy.
gotta dash, more later