While you were sleeping...
Get home, turn the phone off and open the doorbell to pull the battery out. No seriously...
Awake. A five-hour stretch is pretty good...
Ohmy-good-God-motherfucking-fuck. Fuck. It's Project Runway USA.
This is the best thing that could happen to me during the time when I can't sleep.
Today, Project Goddam Runway (Season Fuck Me) is about - or rather, the designers are creating dresses made out of stuff / the curtains / recycled models.
Tim, the silver-haired fox with and accent as endearing as wet toilet paper thrown against the ceiling, is castigating Vincent for his design which "looks like something, I don't know..."
Meanwhile Jeffrey reckons that everyone else is simply "rural remedial bullshit."
It's time for the catwalk show. The designers are sat on stools like along the runway like targets at a funfair coconut shy.
Various models parade down the catwalk, some wearing furry things (the house ex-pet?) while another throws a handful of feathers into the air (the house ex-budgie?)
Jeffrey lets out a little squeak as the feathers sink to the ground.
I decide to live my life more like the contestants of Project Runway USA.
"In this situation, what would the contestants of Project Runway do?"
For example, if you were to open the fridge to find that there was no milk for your tea, you should immediately explode into a panic shouting "oh-my-good-goddamfucking-jesus-this is the biggest disaster since I don't fucking know."
Murder, She Wrote is on. I can't keep up with being a Project Runway contestant and daytime TV just gets even more preposterous.
My advice? If Jessica Fletcher ever pitches up a party where you're at, leave immediately.
And the poor old woman lives in a small sleepy town called Cabot Cove yet every week someone ends up brutally murdered. What does she do to relax, head to Baghdad?
Daytime TV starts to become afternoon TV which means it's time for bed.
Awake again. Fuck. During the week I don't even manage to get 9 hours' sleep. Still though, nights suck.
Running at the gym.
The song is "Don't Give Hate a Chance" by Jamiroquai, remixed by Freemasons.
Basically I can't listen to anything unless it's remixed by Freemasons.
This is of course a complete over-exaggeration.
Work. And huh?!
What the fuck is this all about and why am I having to endure it...?!
The Russian Prime Minister - is this some sort of Heath Ledger tribute?
"Hey boys, I'm going camping and I'm going to get my kit off and I would love you to photograph me."
And the end of another, ridicous and topsy-turvy day.