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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Of course, mere moments after posting on blog about how wondrous life is and how filled with the joys thereof that I am, I wake up this morning with a feeling of impending DOOM that will not, despite everything I’ve done today, go away. I was so cranky that my mother, on seeing the thunder cloud hovering over my head, gave me a big hug and handed me some chocolate when I came in to the kitchen this morning.

I think I’ve exceeded my seratonin limit for the week, or something. I tried playing with Bobby, running around, singing loudly, putting on different outfits, having a very long shower, going shopping, trying on fancy clothes, blowing huge bubbles with gum, having lunch with a friend, eating chocolate brownies, buying things… nothing has quite hit the spot and managed to disperse the cloud.

I’ve now started stressing an enormously inappropriate amount about the outfit I should be wearing at tomorrow’s communion ceremony, which I will be attending with the glamorous Mrs Bishop. We will be present to witness our beautiful god daughter giving her soul to the Jesus, and wearing a tiny replica of a wedding dress while promising to take and eat the body of Christ. (Don’t dwell on the implications of this for too long. You’ll come to no good.)

In other news, Mrs Bishop has surpassed herself by rising to a challenge I set her not a week ago, in which I told her it would be impossible for her to find the weblog of my ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend. I wanted to find this only because said ex-boyfriend (who reads this, by the by – Hi Ovular!) wouldn’t give me said address, saying that it would be "too weird". And he’s right, of course. But highly inappropriate Mrs Bishop (who is gifted to the level of idiot savant in terms of cyber stalking) has come up with the goods! All hail Mrs Bishop. If anyone has any major challenges, do email me and I’ll pass them her way. For the rest of you hiding special secrets behind pseudonyms, I can only tell you: be afraid. She will find you.

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