When i was in the bath today, i remembered the first time that i realised skin was waterproof. I was about 10 years old, and i remember thinking 'oh, thats clever' - well, yes, yes it is clever. Skin that is waterproof, whatever next.
Anyway. I then went on thinking about this moment in time when i realised that my skin was waterproof, and i then remembered to my horror that this was also the day i had a poo in the bath and blamed it on my goldfish. Who was in his tank. In the Kitchen. The poo was clearly a human poo as it was about 2x the size of the fish itself. This then made me think that i must have been younger than 10 because if i was pooing in baths at the age of 10, and believing i can blame it on goldfish, then i surely must have been younger.
If i ever had to work in WHSmith, Brighton. I think i'd probably end up getting done for murder. I went in today and asked where would i find Augusten Burroughs's, memoirs and the lot of them looked like i had just had a poo in a bath and blamed it on my goldfish. One of them even said, 'what is a memoir' to the other and the other looked at me and i had to explain. All in all, i just got pissed off and stole a birthday card for my mother.
It reads in big letters on the front: 'I'm out of oestrogen and I have a gun'
Au Revoir
