bunnyblog

Getting to the point where answering the phone to anonymous calls is a bad idea. Unbelievable, but this is what I get for associating with the mentally unbalanced.

Went to bed at 9pm last night (yay no alcohol!) after a couple of tasty little buggers.

Weird dreams:

Went to a house party full of women, ended up full of self-loathing and hating my bro for his usual shit. tantalisingly close to lux at one point. Segue to Sandgate Poundstretcher, now a multi-floor miniatures shop. I leave for a minute, go down to where fie stays, some guy’s looking for Cunningham (no relation to either, though my dad seems to think it’s us). Has a googly eye. I finally find the door (keep walking past it for whatever reason) but the guy’s disappeared. Back to Poundies, see a couple of Illuminati-like guys asking questions at the door. Duck in and go upstairs, the place has been emptied. Lillie is there, as is Phil Gallie (!) who gives us the combination to a briefcase which supposedly contains two grand’s worth of minis. A cleaner nearly eats the sweety I have written the combination on. (For posterity I think it was 18857.) I wake up without having found the briefcase.

Benn didn’t come round with the charger. For fuck’s sake.

Title is because I woke up with an urge to listen to Army by the Ben Folds Five. Yeah, not the same album, but some things were born to be titles, y’know.

Saw Daisy for the first time in four five years today.

“What you been up to, then?”

“Nothing much.”

Not only did I not go out, I didn’t drink at all. Both of these were very good ideas. Not often I *avoid* doing things which would cause me physical and mental distress.