My own horn. I be tootin'...
I wish.
So somehow I have been entered into SA Blog Awards. What I mean to say is that I entered my very own self into the SA Blog Awards. As in, I believe my own press clippings. Or droppings, as it were.
Now I have no idea what happens next. I assume they'll just shower me with little statuettes and praise. Maybe even a free drink or two. Ah, I can feel the adulation already! Red carpets, flashing cameras, annoying reporters...
Or maybe not. Perhaps I'll just continue dreaming about what might have been from the confines of my stuffy office. And carry on entertaining and enlightening all of you, my faithful and refined readers. You can experience the joy of teaching yourself to become a domestic goddess second hand! You can vicariously live the life of a drunken, aging rockstar! You can even manage to stifle a barely audible chuckle from time to time...
But wait! There's more!
Actually, no there isn't.
(I probably have to go and investigate how to go about winning this thing, eh. Possibly some sort of voting system. Watch this space...)
Onto the harrowing topic of Halloween. I hate Halloween. I'm expected to dress up as a "ghoul", when the only thing I am usually capable of looking like (realistically) is of course, a "girl". I never know what to do with all this damn hair! Perhaps it's time for that little Heather Graham bit I was alluding to earlier... Might be a touch nippy.
NGDG: "I am absolutely terrifyingly shit-scared of Winex. We may die."
Spread The Love. Vote For Me Like I'm The DA And The Only Thing Between You And Absolute Bankruptcy.
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