I should mention Nick Hazel in this blog post as I verbally attacked him in the kebab on Prince of Wales last night. I think I got a little over excited when he said he reads my blog everyday and thinks i’m a really great writer. 

He actually did not say that.

Home was fun, Stacey is mental and so is Sophie. The Curson clan are generally all happy and healthy you’ll be pleased to hear.
Mum made me a cake to take home with me. Tim and Ed (my bosses said it was great, but Ed moaned about the lack of drizzle, because Ed is sneaky and mysterious.
I got three buses home on Sunday morning. I was reunited with my favourite shop in the whole of Lowestoft, ‘Gooch Accidents’. Honestly it actually exists. Google boogle it. 
Paul and I played on the landing a fair bit (there’s video evidence of my cat being rubbish and me being generally great.) 
I write this blog entry using ‘Ladbrokes’ wifi because I used all my free cloud time up. What is this nonsense? Silly wifi elves and their silly cloudy faces.
My arse is cold because I’m sitting on a metal bench for about an hour and I await the arrival of Jordy and Gina to execute what can only be described as the worst plan of action. I’m sad, tired and cold and all I want is bed time but here I am committing to friendship. Well bollocks to that. No i’m sorry, not bollocks. I love you both it’s just my arse is cold and I want to cry a bit.
A homeless dude is watching me write this. Hey dude, keep it real.
A man called Godwin came and spoke to me in my hour of need. Not the actual God, (he’s far too busy being good and sortin out stuff), but GODWIN, sat with me, tried to get my number, told me he was in the fashion business and thought I had potential. Now, I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but as I sat there in my wooly hat I found in the pub, a stained jumper, ripped (not in a cool way) jeans and grubby trainers, I smelt a rat. Turns out I’m in the running for being remember as ONE OF THE GREATEST DETECTIVES OF OUR TIME, because Godwin worked for TK Maxx. He essentially did not lie, but he twisted the truth. Twisted here means, poor Godwin, may I never see you again cos that would be #awkward.
We’ll talk about Nick Hazell a bit more because I really did shout quite a lot and he bought me a pizza. Was that a date Nick? Are you my boyfriend now? Also had the realisation that I eat like a pig when I’m sober. God knows what poor Nick had to sit through, as mashed up meat feast rolled around my mouth and I shouted words like, ‘TUMBLR’ and ‘YOU BLOODY READ MY BLOG’. Sorry Nick. 
I’m excited about work tomorrow because I want to work REALLY HARD but also because I hope they get minced pies in again. I think I’m addicted to them. Not in a ha ha ho hum type way like, ‘I’m totes addicted to choccies he he lollroflz’ but as in, ‘I can’t stop thinking about Mince pies and I might hurt someone if I don’t get one.’ You see the difference bloggorphinites?
Oh crap it’s now Wednesday.
Gonna skim over the past events and get this blog OUT THERE so it doesn’t go off and get mould sitting in my notes. (Metaphors are your friends.) (Puns are fun also.)
Kayyy lemme seeeee… 
Right so considering I was excited about work tomorrow must mean we left off at Sunday, cos god knows what I’d write, on a Tuesday, ‘I’m absolutely so pumped for the middle of the week. I don’t feel fresh, nor is the weekend near. Yeehar cowboy, let’s do it.’ I probably would never say Yeehar cowboy let’s do it either. I’m not myself these days. I’ve changed i’m sorry, cowboy.
Sunday we went for a curry down Bricklane, I didn’t buy one however because I don’t have any money. (A hilarious but consistent trend in my life at the moment.)
Monday G, Jord, Rhys and I went to the pub. It was glorious. Glorious here means, pie, peas and gravy. Enough said. I can only imagine the cow I ate actually jumped up and sacrificed itself willingly, knowing how delicious the steak and ale pie was going to be. It was indeed a better life for the cow. The peas probably just sat about in their usual manner, inside their local pod, doing what peas do which is nothing but grow and be nutritious or mashed within an each of their short lived lives in order to become a can of mushy peas. I want some mushy peas now, with vinegar. Steve just made me a cup of tea.
Tuesdayyyy G and I got a bit stressed coming up with a strategy that TOTALLY GETS the target market and makes them want to WORK OUT MORE. So can had a few beers and a chinese, stayed at work till about 11, and SMASHED IT OUT. (We still don’t have anything.)
There was a live band playing at Oxford Circus last night. They were ok.
This morning I’m working a brief to sell advertising. NO PRESSURE THEN. Anyone got any ideas, holla at cha gurl. I’m cha gurl incase there was any confusion between Beyonce and I. People always get us muddled up.
You want a quick visual right now?
Gina is standing with Daz talking about her cold. It’s bloody grey outside. It’s kinda like LA in the Summer but the total opposite.
Photos… no. 1 is me struggling to pack winter stuff to go back to London. Pic no. 2 is the GANG eating CURRY. Jordy was a grumpy pig. The picture is misleading.
Pic no. 3 is last night when we stayed til 11pm getting stuff done. Beer and A3 layout pads for effect.
Pic no. 4 is me last night, alone in bed, freezing my tits off and wearing a delightful winter jumper.
Pic no. 5 is me right now, pretending to work for the purpose of this blog. Although I am working really hard, I promise. Hi Mum. 

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