For reasons frequently apparent and shameful to me (don't even ask if you don't know), it is clear that I'm a 13 year-old girl. Sometimes 12, and on a good day, maybe 13 and 8 months. At any rate, this age of choice is useful when you're going to have a slumber party (or Babycakes Pajama Jam, as we like to call them) with your girlfriends (be their girl or gay boy alike). However, when you are still trying to get over that pivotal hump towards being a "real person," you just really wish that you could be static @ 15 or 16. Not making any sense, am I? Good.
In fun news, went to a play tonight (D.H. Lawrence's Sons & Lovers). Despite the Lawrencian expectations, their was no nudity and only a little bit of undressing--and some definite hickey-inducing neck kissing. Get our your turtlenecks! Then continued my slow but steady Norwich pub crawl at a place called The Alibi, one of Norwich's wine bars slash few establishments to have a late-night liquor pass. Mentally noted. Other than that, today was a true Saturday in that nothing was accomplished, aside from washing my hair. (I'm such a girl... a 13 year-old one.) Tomorrow is BRRRRRUNCH in Earlham Park. Boring, am I? Good.
Goodnight moon. Goodnight stars. Goodnight blog. **snorrrrrrrre**

