Quite tragic really.

Having the worst day ever.
This computer has pretty much established that it hates me and has just fucked up ALL of the artist research I was going to print off.
Just had enough now, grrrrrrrr.

Does it feel better than love?

Not gonna lie, I fully fancy Theo Hutchcraft.
And he's a fellow Mancunian.
Oh me oh myyyyyyyy.

He's the one furthest forward.
Swoon, swoon.

The story of Arron Singh Gill.

Because he asked.


This is a completely 100% true story about Arron Gill, otherwise known as "Gizz" (but I hate that nickname so I won't use it).
Arron Gill is a beautiful chocolate man who enjoys schmokin' the green, taking pictures in strange outfits, being happy and learning about English Language.
Arron Gill goes to Arthur Terry school with me, where we laugh, learn and laugh some more.
However, this is a chilling tale that shocked both Arron and I right to the core.
(truth be told I seemed more bothered about this at the time, but because Arron asked me to write a story about him, he will be the main character.)

One day Arron and I went to English Language, one of Arron's most favouritest lessons on earth to see one of the most amazing teachers ever, Mrs Beedon.
Or so we thought.
After a few minutes of giggles and whatnot as we took our seats, Beedon began to speak.
"Hello class, blahblahblahblah... my name is no longer Beedon, it has now changed back no my maiden name, Bull. I will no longer respond if you refer to me as 'Beedon.'"
Arron couldn't believe it.
No one could believe it.
But especially not Arron.
Because it was unbelieveable.
So unbelieveable he couldn't believe it.
His heart sunk in his chest.
The panic rose to his brain.
He was sweating like a nun in a brothel as his beautiful rap for Beedon flashed before his eyes.
No longer could he shout with his fellow warriors:

FIRST ON THE MIKE IT'S BEEEEEEDON
DRAW FOR THE SHANK IT'S BEEEEEEDON
DON'T WANNA MESS WITH BEEEEEEEEEEEEDON etc etc etc.

He and his fellow comrades at the table attempted to incorperate "Miss Bull" into the rap, but to no avail.
He could slowly feel his heart breaking.
Tears welled in his eyes...
Then we got Miss to tell some jokes and after 2 minutes he was sound as a pound.
The End.

There you go, Arron.
It's a masterpiece, I know.
NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT.

"Missus, bird, chick."

I don't want some crazy intense romance where if i'm not being swept off my feet somehow, then we're having a meal at a fancy restaurant with my parents.

To be honest I just wouldn't mind being someone's "bird".
Chill in the pub every now and then, getting shit takeaways and shitter films, cotching with collective mates, not having to text/call/be with each other all the time to know the feeling's there.

I'm actually baking some pains au chocolat so I need to go now.

Don't have time

to write much because i'm working, but this needs updating.

In a nutshell, Leeds was beyond fucking amazing, i'll get some pictures up when I get the photos developed.
I pulled at Leeds which was nice and now I couldn't give a fuck about the person I whine about in the post below.
My attitude has changed and I love it.
For a change it's me who doesn't know what I want, but not because of pressure or whatever, but because i've got so much choice, I don't have to just settle for less anymore.

All I need now is for this horrible flu to go and then my life will be pretty sweet.