There was a guy in the office today who I discovered is a year younger than me. Felt old and useless suddenly, like I just haven't been trying hard enough to get a proper job/I studied the wrong thing/I went to the wrong school/I'm not well-connected etc. I think he was an intern. Anyway, I'm going somewhere else tomorrow so that was the end of my stint in parliament house. It was nice though. At the end of the day we all had a glass of wine in the Minister's office and watched the news.

I'm hungry. I feel like... hmmm... dumplings? No I had those the other night. Maccas? No, not filling enough. KFC? Too filling. Thai? Over it. Indian? Hmmm, I could always do with some Indian. Cook my own food? Um, you must be kidding. SO over that! There's not enough room in the fridge to put leftovers and it isn't that much cheaper than getting takeaway, if you know where to get it. Man, I'm sick of having to feed myself. Why can't someone just organise it for me? One day I'll have a bunch of servants to do all the shit that I don't want to do myself. And the receptionist will feel 'priveleged' to be working for me.

Enter Eminem with:
"I think you got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counselling, to stop your arse from bouncing off the walls when you get down some..."

I love chuckling to myself. That's what keeps me going in this world. Speaking of chuckling to myself, George my old flatmate from Abercrombie St and I have been exchanging some very raunchy and flirtatious emails that had me giggling to myself on the L74 that I didn't know didn't stop at my stop but instead went all the way into Randwick so I had to walk home... That George still hasn't lost his magic touch.  ¶ 18:28