So I went to a little do last night to say hi to Doc. Who kept on going about me looking like I'm glowing. Like going on and on about me glowing. Like, wha-eva. He loves doing that, especially when it's actually just bar rash.
Anyway, because I'm seeking a new flatmate, at the table, this conversation:
Big T: I'd move in, but the shower. The shower. It was the dealbreaker.
Mr 747: Yeah. I flooded the bathroom yesterday. But the pressure is good.
Big T: Well the nozzle is a foot shorter than me.
Mr 747: Have you seen the stove?
C: What's wrong with the stove? It's not like she's going to cook a turkey Christmas dinner anytime soon.
Mr 747: It would take two full days to cook it in there anyway.
Big T: And the couch!
Peas: Leave the couch out of this, I love my couch. C, have you ever noticed the couch?
Big T: The indent in which she places her bum.
Mr 747: Yip, seen it....how about the reed mat?
Peas: OK, okes - enough.
I'm getting loser's complex over where I live. I shalt not despair.
Because today, I woke up deaf in my right ear. Completely deaf. Nothing but the slight tinitus sound of deafness, I really got to get this guy syringed before Barbra Streisand and Ace of Base become a mere memory of the past.
I am deaf.