Titles: Overrated.

This sounds a bit.. strange, right, but I wanted to tell you anyway. It's cold in my office and I'm wearing a light coloured top. Everytime I stand up and go anywhere I have to do so with my arms crossed over my chest. This is somewhat impractical and I need some plasters, perhaps, or a thicker and darker coloured top. I was going to follow that sentence with "or some scissors", but I'm not that gross. Oh, um, wait. Nevermind.

Weekend One In Clapham was great. On Friday night I went out with my friends from work to get "resonated", which means "drunk" and which I think is a GREAT abuse of the English language, and which I will be using about six times an hour for the rest of my life. We had some wine and tequila (history teaches us NOTHING, people) and then I got on the tube, fell asleep, woke up in Morden (end of the line south on the Northern Line) and had to get the last train heading back north to get to my stop. It all worked out in the end, though, because I made it home and woke up post-resonation in MY OWN bed in MY OWN (alright, rented, but whatever) flat. On Saturday I drunk a whole cafetiere of coffee in about half an hour, and proceeded to stand in the living room 'dancing' whilst David looked bemusedly on and smoked out of the window (Um... I am a bitch and make them smoke out of the window). I was dancing primarily because I had just ingested enough caffiene to make an elephant box-step, but also partly because LOOK! It's Saturday! Morning! And I'm in a flat which I LIVE IN! Also we had a CD on which I got free with Music Week magazine which was called French Talent of 2006 and was really, really cool, apart from the odd regression into hardcore French rap, which: no, not so much for me, thanks.

Then the three of us went out Charity Shop shopping* and successfully purchased Nice Things.

* I mentioned this to my Dad and he said "did you buy any, then? Charity shops?" and I think this is a perfect example of why my sense of humour is so, well, dubious and Comedy-Uncle-esque. Yeah, thanks, Dad.

Then I went home, got ready and went out again. Into Clapham and then to a house-party. Which was All Good for reasons I'll go into later.

Last night I went to see Munich, which was fantastic. Beautiful cinematography and so suspense-ridden I nearly had panic attacks about four times. I went with Dan, who also enjoyed it, but who now has numerous nail indentations in his left forearm which will probably never go away, ever. It was scary, though, and if he doesn't want to be scarred for life he shouldn't risk going with me to see films whose main premise is 'induce panic attacks in the audience and cause them to forget ALL about their meticulously selected pick n mix so they have to eat it on the tube home, which just feels wrong'.

This week I have busy plans, including 'drinks' tomorrow night at which I will mainly be concentrating on not getting resonated, cinema to see Brokeback Mountain (or "Brokenback Cowboys" as my Dad called it) (I am cursed, genetics-wise) at some point, and a meeting with my friend who I am music-ing with. I will also be tidying my room.

I hope you had a nice weekend, and it sort of sucks that it's Monday, but hey, at least there's not another one for a WHOLE WEEK. Think of that, my friends. Think of that and smile.

Or perhaps just get resonated, and smile, your call.