For some weird and unknown reason I always hated Sundays. Sundays have an eerie feeling to them especially in winter. Where I originally come from (somewhere in Europe), Sunday was the day of the Lord - shops are closed, dogs stay in and people just lazy it up at home. And of course, the next day is school - in my case, present day...its work (what fun). I am a workaholic I must admit but Monday is always a Monday. Normally people at work are grumpy on Mondays, it takes a whole hell of a time to get started on your work and honestly, I can't give a fuck on a Monday. Period.

At the moment, I am in a houseshare until I move in my new house which seems like an eternity especially when you have 5 house mates who are totally wacked up:

1) Marathon Boy and Giggly Girl - GG is MB's gf. She doesn't actually live here in theory, but in practice, she's ALWAYS here. She takes a shower and leaves her remaining hair in the clog (had to tell her last week). They fuck like rabbits (where each hump lasts for 5mins and it seems that GG's way of climaxing is not moaning but giggling [hence her nickname]). How do I know that it lasts for 5mins? Well: a) I time them (what a loser) and b) his room is on top of mine so I can hear his bed squeaking.

2) Then there's 'Life is Life' who apparently works at the airport making coffee, from some unknown island in Europe near Portugal, who does not speak a word in English. The only phrase she is sure of is: Life is Life. Again, hence her nickname. And, yes, her cooking smells foul.

3) Casper - Another foreign guy who is rarely seen BUT heard. He talks to himself a lot. Works somewhere with nightshift. So whilst I am preparing for work, he comes in from work. Typical ghost. Spooky guy.

4) Then there's my Trolly Dolly who is basically my only sane friend in this dump.

5) A female trolly dolly who I haven't nicknamed yet - comes from some east europe and is weird in her own way - friendly but detached. Do not really see her that often.

So back to my Sunday blogging....I hate Sundays...They don't make sense at least for me. So tomorrow I have no choice but march into work and pretend that I give a fuck (well I do in a way I need the dough) and work my ass off.

I honestly think that Sundays are made to stay in bed...

IF YOU GET OFFENDED WITH WHAT IM GOING TO SAY, STOP READING NOW!

....with a nice beefy rugby-type of bloke near me...fucking me for England. ha!

xxx