Or should I say dear sex diary, as that’s what it’s turning into.
Dear sex diary,
I have not had sex. Lol.
I have met a nice trans lady with a nice big whip.
I have applied for a job as a trainee hairdresser. Well that would be fun wouldn’t it?
I have consoled one very teary ex-girlfriend who has had her heart broken.
I have eaten a Pot Noodle sandwich, half a (big) mint aero, one packet of salted popcorn and 4 orange clubs.
One glass of orange juice, one Coke and a large glass of Sauvignon blanc.
20mg fluoxetine, 3g sulphasalazine, 100mg azathioprine, 5mg folic acid, 30mg domperidone.
This is the most fucking boring blog post ever. Sorry.
I have also had to console a slightly upset colon. It feels I have not been paying it enough attention. I hope it understands I am just busy… trying to get a job, and get laid and whatnot. I’ve had a big pile of blood forms in the post, we will go and sort you out tomorrow ok. Please don’t be angry.
If ever, and I repeat, if ever, my life seems to be going slightly back on track my colon will pipe up (literally!) and derail me again.
I know, I know, you don’t like me drinking wine. I get it. But please… come on, it’s one glass.
Colon: But you know I don’t like white wine, could you not just drink red? Or vodka? I don’t even mind vodka.
Me: Yes, but I fancied white.
Colon: I’ve been really good to you, you know, and this is how you pay me back.
Me: It’s not always about you. Why do you always have to make it about you?
Colon: I’m not, I’m just saying…
Me: Don’t threaten me. Don’t even dare. I can chop you out any moment I choose.
Colon: Yeah but we both know you don’t want to do that. Then you would probably never get laid.
Me: No, not true. Not true at all. I don’t need you…
Colon: You need me and you know it. Enjoy your wine sucker…
Me: I will…