Marc and I went to see U2 last night, courtesy of my dad. I forgot Marc's ear plugs at the house and twelve hours later he still can't hear anything spoken in a normal tone of voice. But that's the price you pay for the rock, Marc. Even if it isn't rock you usually listen to.
I haven't posted a photo in ages. The battery charger for the camera is missing. I think it's in London. My father disagrees, because that would mean he left it there.
I'm alone with Happy tonight. Time to go read in the bath.
Edit: If that last line reads like an invitation for stalkers to break in and murder me, let me add that "Happy" is the name of my enormous body building special forces man friend with guns for arms.
3 comments:
Mmm, internet paranoia. It kindles the spirit's fires.
And tickles the spirit's toes.
If I even think about your edit, I burst into giggles. I picture a strapping body in a fancy CIA suit with Happy's head and GUNS FOR ARMS.
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