" I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are."
Just spent the night eating Tiramisu and watching Bridget Jones's Diary. Thankfully Pamela joined me, or else the night would be a little too stereotypical. When I was in 8th grade BJD made me obsessed with England, so I guess I can blame my presence here somewhat on the film. Now though I find Daniel Cleaver way too absurdly/annoyingly English and I can't believe Bridget actually holds down a job. And Mark Darcy just depressed me. Does anyone like him actually exist? I literally kept shaking my first towards my laptop (scaring Pamela) because of his perfection. I mean, the speech he tells Bridget in the hallway, oh em gee. I honestly would probably start sobbing if someone said that to me. No, more likely, I wouldn't believe them. Wahhh. I'm just as crazy as Bridget. Where is my Mark Darcy?
Well in unrelated news, my cold still painfully exists. Right now I have another blinding headache, I don't really know why I'm blogging right now. I need to go to sleep and rest up for tomorrow where I have to really perfect my CV for a part time job I'm applying for. Oy Vey. Also, I'm not eating until 130 so I can let my stomach digest for the Sunday Roast I'm getting at a pub tomorrow with the girls! Well, it might only be Pamela and I, but hopefully the others will come through. I'm thinking beef. mmmmm.
Hopefully I'll wake up tomorrow miraculously cured!