sporkeo. Must. Die.

Mood still tired. Still ill.
Wearing pjs. Still. I feel disgusting.
Eating/Drinking lemon strepsils
Hearing Eminem - Like Toy Soldiers
Dreamt about you just don't even want to know. I'll put it down to my feverish (beaverish?) and delusional mind. But I don't think I'll be able to walk into English lessons and feel the same love for them in the same way again...
Present MSN name Like I always say, there's no 'I' in team. There's a 'me,' though, if you jumble it up... (King Baby - Wrong on so many levels!)
Talking to No one.
Last text from Bone
Word of the Day spork

Well, this is nice... I haven't got changed since yesterday and I am beginning to get that sweaty icky feeling that you get when you feel ill.
Well, it figures. I mean; I am actually ill. Feel pretty shite, but I'm going to Bone's tomorrow nonetheless.

Btw, just so you know. I. Hate. The. spork. So much, indeed that I won't even given 'it' a gender or a capital letter for 'it's name.

I'd post my anti-spork pics, but I need special software to do so, and really, I can't be arsed.

Anyway, back to Bone. I was on the phone to her - damn it's good to hear from her again. I quite miss her sometimes. Hehe, she'll end up reading this when I give her the link and she'll call me a lemon. Oh well.

I haven't really got a lot to say today, as not a lot has happened. I watched clips from yesterday's episode of CSI called King Baby. Yes, 'twas as wrong as I thought. Hehe, 'twas also quite funny. I love the little interactions between the characters on the 'oh-so-wrong' episodes. Only bad thing was the spork... but I'm not going down that route again. I mean, after I watched the clips and the bulk of the episode of Unbearable I actually punched the door, the seat, the walls... I was fuming. How dare Grissom ask the spork to dinner! He loves Sara, damnit!

Actually, talking of punching things. Imogen added me to her MSN, and I just knew it was her, even though it didn't actually say. I was amused yet also kinda angry about it. But I reckon it could just be time for a truce or something. It'd better be mutual or an apology from her that starts it though; does she even know how miserable I was in junior and infant school because of her?

Anyway, that's all folks. And remember: see a spork. Kill a spork. Then tell me. Merci beaucoup et au revoir.