Oh my gosh these fancy new contacts NEVER DRY OUT. I can totally keep my eyes open without blinking forever.
Who’s gonna win all the staring contests?
This motherfucker, that’s who.
I got my eyes tested for the first time in two years and they haven’t gotten any worse!
I’ve also been fitted with brand new all singing, all dancing contact lenses that are super duper comfy so I’ll actually be able to wear them!
Soup and a flat white to make my poor throat and chest feel better. Just waiting on lloyds to get my prescription ready!
Whisky and Drambuie toddy to the rescue!
Fuck you cold.
My throat feels like I’ve been dining on razorblades and supping on lava. My lungs feel like I’ve been breathing nothing but the most noxious fumes and are about 2/3 full of gunk.
People from 143 different countries have been on my wee tumblog. Pretty crazy, when you consider it is merely an outlet for my mental diarrhoea.
Props particularly go out to the person from Bhutan, perhaps the most obscure country on the list.
Oh my lord. Why do I never learn. My lungs cannot take smoking more than on the odd occasion. As soon as I get a cold… BAM! Chest infection.
When I die, let it me known that my last words were: *farts loudly*
The cold has reached my chest and I now sound like General Grievous.
I may die.
Trying to eat less/generally have a better diet is not made easier by the fact that when I open my window, the extractor fans from the Italian restaurant downstairs fill my room with the most delicious aromas known to humankind.
I’m just sat here salivating all over my keyboard.
Oh my lord. A week without sex and I’m climbing the fucking walls.
Curse my rampart sex-drive!
Curse my lack of a lady!
Curses, curses, curses.
More from the evening of whisky and cheese!
I’m feeling quite proud of myself as I’ve managed to wean myself down to 10mg/day of Citalopram, after being on 40mg for the last 4 years. It’s been hard work, but since October I’ve just been working really hard at keeping myself stable and carefully managing my doses to minimise the crazy fucking withdrawals. Obviously, breaking up with Shazzerr was pretty traumatic* but I was determined not to let it stop me. Hopefully - if all goes well - I’ll be off anti-depressants completely by mid-summer!
“Come children… Welcome to the magic teapot van.”
The one stall at the meadows festival you really don’t want to visit.
There are so many beautiful people out and about today and I just feel like Quasimodo.