Three days in hospital and two in a drug-induced haze. I just need someone to want to hold my hand.
- Spent 30 straight minutes crying over a story about Somalia on 60 Minutes.
- Spent 8 straight hours of work researching how to join the United Nations/UNICEF/Amnesty Int. etc.
- Realised it’s actually pretty hard to get a UN gig for anyone that isn’t Angelina Jolie.
- Completely overhauled my University plans to study a fluff Communications degree and promptly switched in to Law & International Relations (holy shit.)
- Spent 40 straight minutes weeping softly whilst writing a letter of thanks to Waris Dirie for ‘Desert Flower’ and all her in$pirationz.
- Spent 5 minutes panicking and hyperventilating over the fact that I might one day disappoint Waris Dirie and the entire nation of Somalia and probably the UN and Angelina Jolie and my Nan.
- Ate cookies.
- Stared at my once-a-month boobs.
- Ate a few more cookies.
- Hoped that my cat was/is still alive to see me resurrect the nation of Somalia and put an end to female genital mutilation because that one time I had PMS really bad and that guy I sorta liked but he was a bit of a wanker stopped calling me and she still slept in my bed with me and didn’t care that I got high and only brushed my teeth for like 45 seconds that night.
I need a shoulder. Or some vodka. Or some sense. Maybe a combination of those things. ASAP.
Mount Everest costs $25 000-$60 000 to climb. Laters #1 life goal.
Two weekends away from the Gold Coast is just enough to remind me that not everyone in Australia has shitty hair extensions and takes too many ‘roids. Who knew!?