The beat coming from the morons downstairs.

It's gone very quiet in here. You don't all live beneath me, do you? Only that would be a sure sign the cyanide cake we sent them worked.



Oh, have I said to much? *prepares to destroy the evidence*

*too much

I've been listening to various radio shows today, and will start to listen to the last HHGTG episode in a bit. Probably. Other than that, it's the whirr of three or four computer fans and the occasional whine from the cats.

But what I'm really listening to is the sound of my going up the wall as the local anaesthetic from my dentist's visit wears off and my gums itch and my teeth hurt. Aargh!

I was watching TV with my flatmates the other week and they switched onto something about cosmetic surgery. Squeamish enough as I am at the best of times, I started busying myself with the fridge when they started describing how one woman was going to have reshaping surgery on her genitalia. When they proceeded to mention that she was having the operation under local anaesthetic, I decided it was time for me to leave the room.

[Bif] No, I'm not sick. I was just too tired to read entries properly. Bad nights. In your basket.

[ZK] Oh isn't shared housing lovely? Still, I got up at 06h45 this morning to make sure I actually got a shower today before gettingthe 08h bus. Worked as well.

Got my first ever P45 today. Whee!