So. Two posts, and then I disappeared.
That's gotta be a record. Even for me.
I wish I could say I have an excuse, but I kinda don't, apart from being super lazy.
I was going to tell you all a tale of great woe, of my personal problems and illness and heavy uni work load, etc. etc.
But the truth is, I probably could have found time to write a blog entry or two. So I have to conclude that I'm just really facking lazy.
Anyway, I've got a bunch of reviews and stuff planned, so at least one of those should be coming up over the next couple of days. There are parcels full of lovely Lush and E.L.F. goodies waiting for me at the post office so when I pick them up those products will be getting reviewed too. Or at least swatched in the case of the E.L.F. stuff. Maybe. Depending on what I actually bought, cause I've forgotten now.
Went down to Cambridge this weekend to visit my boyfriend Matthew, which was lovely. Mostly just had a relaxing weekend, partly because I didn't get to Cambridge until after 11 on the Friday night, and slept in till nearly 3 the following afternoon, so we didn't really have time for much haha. Had a nice meal out on the Saturday and did a little bit of shopping: got a red lace blazer from H&M (which I took back today because it made me look enormous). And then today, dreading the five and a half hour train journey that afternoon I bought myself three books: finally got 'Moab Is My Washpot' by Stephen Fry, which I've been meaning to read for ages, and also 'Porno' by Irvine Welsh* and 'The Great Gatsby' by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
It's not 6.30 in the morning and I haven't slept at all. I don't have time to either: flat inspections are starting today and mine's a fucking pigsty and needs to be tidied, and then I've got lectures from 10-12 so might as well stay up.
* Matthew can be a right blumming wind-up merchant when he wants :P For whatever reason, 'Trainspotting' came up in a conversation we were having over the weekend; I can't remember exactly what I said but I think it was something along the lines of how disappointed somebody would be if they watched it expecting it to be a documentary actually about trainspotting and how confused they'd be just to see lots of heroin, and he looked at me with this very sincere face and went "But 'Trainspotting' is a documentary!" and it took me about five minutes before I remembered that it wasn't and that I'd actually read the novel it was based on. Stupid girl.
He then went on to refer to the wonderful Noam Chomsky as something like a 'pretentious pretend-intellectual', which I still don't think I've 100% forgiven him for. See, I can take jokes about many things. But there are some things you just don't say. :P
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