Today was a very sad day for me. When I went to Sharon's for lunch, not only had her Sky gone AWOL because they hadn't paid the bill, but Olivia, one of her flatmates, insisted on playing a CD of Christmas songs at me. What I did to merit this cruel and unusual punishment I cannot say...but it must have been really bad. I mean, I had to sit through the whole of 'Driving Home for Christmas'. Wildly casting about for past-life memories of murders I'd committed or the like.
(No offence intended, but I've never been able to cultivate an appreciation for either Christmas songs or Christmas cards, which seem to me to be two of the most pointless things ever created. But today, I saw a man with more blonde dye in his hair than me and Sharon put together, wearing a jumper from Penney's women's section that I'd been thinking of buying, as well as a girl doing her grocery shopping in a tiara. Whatever floats your boat, I say, be it tiaras or Christmas songs or an unholy combination of both.
...And yes, I can stand Fairytale of New York for the simple reason of the pleasure I glean from the rhyming couplet containing the words 'maggot' and 'faggot'. 'Appropriate to the season' is the phrase I believe I'm searching for.)
Aaaand, I really don't think children should be allowed mobile phones until they have demonstrated, possibly under examination conditions, that they can spell independantly. And then, they should be taught (from birth) that playing every ringtone in the phone's memory, at full volume, in a confined and/or public place, for example a bus, is criminally impolite.
Ooh, I'm handing in my CV tomorrow to a certain-shop-which-shall-not-be-named. It's pretty pathetic, really, considering everyone around me is squawking 'Well, when are you going to start doing medicine/vetrinary science/law/something difficult and boring like these?' that I've realised my only ambition has ever been to work in a shop. Well, this shop. Not that I'm likely to be employed, but I need to try. Apparently I have to search for something terrifying called a 'personnel manager'. I hope they don't bite.