Sarah has just uttered the greatest line I’ve ever heard. So much so, I laughed out loud for a solid thirty seconds. You ready for it?

> toooothpaste in my haaaaair

A few hours ago, it dawned on me.

I never loved her.

And while it’s a bit of a shock, it’s a pleasant one. It’s a release. And, to be blunt, a relief. I’m not bitter, mind. Just honest. There were good times, there were bad times. Times when we ran through the street laughing in the dead of night because we were just happy to be alive. And the times we’d sit on the end of a phone to each other, staring daggers at the other over the wire.

All I’ve got left to say is I hope you’re happy. And I mean that with not an ounce of malice in my voice. Richard Shindell had it right. All I want to know is, are you happy. I certainly hope he was worth leaving me for. It’d suck if he wasn’t. But since you’ve been gone, I’ve met so many people who’ve inspired me in ways that you couldn’t dream of. I’ve met people who I’ll treasure for the rest of my life. We both knew we’d grow apart, and grow older. I’ve grown up, I hope you have, too. And the tape you sent back? I lit it, and let it burn to ash in a can in the garden.

Though I know it’s hard to tell
I hope that what’s-his-name treats you well
I still maintain that he’s a bum
But it’s your money - have some fun

Aside from the horrible pun, I’m back on form. Work has all but killed me of late. Leave the house at just gone 7am, and back in at about 6.30pm. Eat, check my email, fall asleep. That’s been my life for the last month. And the last week has been a veritable fucking-ver by my employer and my University. Data Protection Act? What’s that? More later. Maybe.

Anyway- weekends have been a bastion of sleeping in; of course, these days, getting up at 8am means I’ve slept in super-late. I can now sleep in, and still have a whole day to play with! In one such respect, this is quite awesome. As such, I’m going to try to make the most of tomorrow as I’ve stuff to do, photos to take, and art galleries to look at. In particular the Tate Modern has a new exhibition in the Turbine Hall that I’d like to take in.

And, of course, with work, comes the rampant consumerism. I tried. I really did try to not buy stuff. But I went a little mad. I caught up on my DVD acquisitions. And I bought Six Feet Under: The Complete First Series, Second Series, and Third. And then I bought Futurama, Season One. I know, I’m a sucker for DVD sales. And Sin City. And then, my Visa melted, and I was done for the day. And the day after, KT Tunstall, Eye to the Telescope and Takk…

And, of course, various gifts for various people. There were a few birthdays to cater for, and even a Mini Meet last weekend which went off rather well. And then I had a shite week and went shopping again, and chose to expand my wardrobe with a Sigur Rós Metal Sweatshirt. And a pin badge. And I think a new bag is in order tomorrow, too. Not sure what kind yet, however. Maybe some razor blades; it’s clean shaven or beardymat time again. Bah!

I swear, I’ll stop buying stuff soon. Honest.

Well. I also got a new Ericsson T39m in Ice Cap Blue. I really mean it this time; last thing I’m going to get this month. I think. Other than a new iPod because I’ve just sold my 20Gb 4th Gen Clickwheel. Oops.

No more stuff. Honest. But I did discover the joy of Dominos Online ordering earlier this month. I think it’s the best thing on the Internet in a damn long time. Not since I found Feng Sushi did online ordering and the spring rolls at Ned’s Noodle Bar have I been this impressed with anything I could order online with a Visa card. Apart from iTMS. Maybe.

I was woken this morning at about half six, most annoying on a Sunday. The sky rumbled a little, as if thunder threatened to wash the day out. It wasn’t until I finally woke, at about 10am, that I read the news on Auntie. Crumbs. I knew I could smell something…

Today, the Postal Service has angered me.

Not long ago, I was sent a package. This package was a gift. It contains a pen, a catalogue, and a few small notebooks. Pretty simple stuff, no? It’s marked as a gift, too. And that it is; there was no money involved in the exchange. And yes, it seems that Parcel Force have decided to be evil bastards and take my new hotness and subject it to a customs search. It seems that they don’t quite understand how a pen and a set of notebooks can be worth $500.

So. They’re determine that the goods are in-fact, worth the amount on the shipping label, then they’ll take the pen from the box, write with it, maybe give it a drop kick or three, and spit in the notebooks for good measure. Oh, and no doubt try to charge me VAT and Import Duty on the whole lot, too.

So that’s what I’m waiting for. Death and deliverance. And a very sexy pen.