It's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light...

Just so everyone is clear? My friends are nutters. Absolute possibly time-travelling nutters.

And I adore them :D

I went to bed at 10 last night and fell asleep watching Boosh. I should know better. The dreams are SO WEIRD. And not fun dreams involving Noel Fielding and his sparkly self. I think I was being chased by Yetis.

Or Rich Fulcher.

I braved the mall for shopping. I had to take the bus (as ever). It is raining. Everyone was on the bus with me. Everyone in the world.

So...reading a book called Saint Patrick; Patron Saint of Ireland leads to weird looks on the bus. Usually from hoony teenagers, the bastards. I can only assume these people are looking at me and deciding I am some kind of fundie, since I do tend to look like a goddamn prude though I have NO idea why. If only they knew that my TimPod was playing Tim Minchin singing Inflatable You or Ten Foot Cock and a Few Hundred Virgins in my ears as I read about Patrick's religious experiences.

Might I also add that listening to that latter song, as well as So Fucking Rock while being literally surrounded by octogenarian women is a little uncomfortable. They are judging me with eyes full of wisdom!

I did some Christmas shopping, and yet I still need to get my flatmate presents next Monday. The LFoD are having a Tim Minchin Christmas and giving each other socks, jocks and chocolate. Because we're awesome.

And my TimPod played White Wine in the Sun when I was about nine minutes from home so it fit in perfectly at the end of the trip, leaving me feeling all lovely. Thanks, TimPod! You're the best!