Binge and purge

Tuesday, September 1st, 1999

Is it ironic at all that I lay in bed reading about Victim Feminisim while Fiona Apple wailed away on my stereo?

Because of vomitting and long late night long distance phone calls and that sort of thing, I didn’t go into tech today. I did, however, get out of bed to give Clayton the converter plug, without which I can’t plug my modem into the phone lines. He hasn’t given it back to me yet, but that’s probably a good thing. I just don’t know when I’ll get to upload this entry. But that doesn’t matter all that much anyways.

I’ve done 1/3 of my intercom work, which is a good thing, I think. Yes. It’s astonishing how quickly I can actually do it, if I didn’t get distracted all the time. But I do get distracted, by Freecell and newspapers and thoughts and stuff that should all just be erased. Stuff. Ha.

Showers are where I spend an hour scrubbing the tiles because I don’t want to leave pounding hot water. The laundry floor is where I curled up last night after vomiting and we’ll just blame that on the gin at Shirley’s, because that’s easier.

I made peach pies tonight, cos we went to a Pot Luck dinner at Lucy and Ants’ flat. On the Shore. Man, it’s like every single stereo type is just so true. There were about 15 girls there – it was like a Glassons show room. I sat in a corner and ate humble pie. Their flatmate Nikki was really nice though. And Ants is going to mow our lawn, because I asked him to.

I have pie under my fingernails now and I blame Simon.

Six days till I can run away to Australia. At least my journalism is all done.

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