  Thank God it's nearly the weekend!  This week has been dragging like God knows what.  Unfortunately,  due to being skint,  nowt is planned,  so hopefully something will crop up.
 Dan and I saw The Day After Tomorrow tonight which was bloody good.  I was particularly pleased because:  a)  The English people in it weren't cockneys with shit accents or really posh public school boys b)  There was none of the " God Bless America,
 better than any other country"  bollocks like in Independence Day And so far I've managed to stick to my guns with the not watching of Big Brother 5.  I am determined to not watch it this year -  every other year my resolution fails,  but fortunately this year they're all a load of tossers which kind of puts me off.  I was tempted to watch the aftermath of the alleged violence last night,
 but it's a slippery slope.  One minute I'll be watching that crap and the next minute I'll read Heat magazine and actually give a shit about Posh Spice and whatever her new handbag is.  And please do let me know if you also think Heat magazine is the biggest pile of turd ever shat from the fat hairy farty arse of the Devil himself.  All they do is take a photo of some celeb picking their nose and give it a title like " Kylie inserts digit in nostril shocker"  What a load of fucking arse!
 The worst ever was when they published a photo of Nicole Kidman stepping out of a portaloo,  and when someone wrote in to say what a waste of space the article was,  they claimed it was ironic!  How?  Perhaps they should get a bloody dictionary,  and more than half a braincell between them.
 And why is it that all of those programs like " The 100 Greatest Music Singles"  ask that twat Mark Frith for his opinion?  Like he knows ANYTHING about music?  He edits a magazine full of photos zooming in on the supposed imperfections of others,  just so he doesn't have to focus on the real world.
 He should confess to his local priest and be flogged,  say 60, 000 Hail Mary's,  and very possibly be castrated ( without anaethetic)  and then be forcefully anally probed with a fuck off huge 12 foot spike,
 by me.  I would do it for free!  Phew!  As you may be able to tell,  I've wanted to get that off my chest for a while now!  I am not a fan of those celeb mags,
 I'd much rather read Loaded or Bizarre.  Women's mags are poo and just go on about how to get a man and keep a man,  and how to stay pretty in lovely dresses so he doesn't realise that you've actually got a 'tache.  Women's mags are the magazine equivalent of skidmarks.  Now nursie has given me my tranquiliser injection,  I am feeling a bit calmer now.
 .  .  zzzzzzz.  So here I sit in my living room,  and I have only just notice what a complete shit- tip it is.
 Both Dan &  I are bloody untidy,  so we've got videos in a teetering pile ( right next to the shelves where they belong -  plenty of room for them too)  a small pringles packet balanced precariously on the back of the sofa,
 some of my shoes spread around the room - never together in a pair -  because that would mean I wouldn't have to spend every morning swearing,  whilst rummaging through books cds trying to find 2 matching shoes,  and coffee table with God knows what under it and spread evenly over it.  My mum always told me that I'd grow out of being untidy once I grew up,
 so mentally I must still be in puberty ( which would explain my adoration for sad yet amusing phrases like " big baps"  etc)  Thank God I haven't got kids yet -  I'd get them lost under piles of paper.
 Ok,  well I'm off for now,  I have no idea if anyone will read this,  but " Hello and Goodnight"  if you do!
 Redhedgirl xx 
