The Art of Tucking.

Someone told me I should start this blog thing again, so they could see what I was doing when I wasn't around. It's kind of a nice thing, whether they read this though is a different story.

I camped last night, what a ball. I was pretty intoxicated and even more euphoric than usual. I'm always happy, or always try to be. I want to put a smile on peoples faces, 95% of the time I fail and cause the exact opposite and people want me gutted, beheaded and shoved on a pike. Henry the 8th style. Atleast I think thats what he did. Oh yeh, I overheard someone say they hoped I was dead last night. What a world we live in where we can just pray death or aids upon someone as if it's a knock knock joke. Knock knock motherfucker, it's aids and he wants in because I said so.

It's 7:42am and I'm tired. So so tired. This has made me realise, while I lie in bed writing to all you amazing readers, yes thats right all 4 of you, that my biggest fear is my bed.

Not falling out of it, or being like assaulted during my sleep. If one day, I do die way to young from an unknown cause, let this be my testimony/eulogy, iunno.

Dear reader,
I have a fear. Not just any fear. A fear I have had since birth which has only exacerbated over time. It's my feet. My feet are my biggest fear.
Not so much the actual feet, but the position they are in. My feet must be perfectly tucked underneath the blanket, not sticking out at all. If I feel so much as a slight draft creep through, I'll reposition untill my feet are snug under my blanket. The fear of something grabbing my feet from the security of my blankee scares the life out of me. My feet MUST be tucked in before I can sleep. It's a must.

So, in life a few things happen. You're born, you go to school, you get a job, you get a partner, you have kids, you have grandkids, you grow old and you die. Sorry to break it to you sweety, but its going to happen. But this whole feet thing has got me worried.

Is my future girlfriend going to be able to put up with this total phobia?! when I'm ill, will she tuck my feet under for me and make sure nothing is gunna tug at my leg? D:
If theres a girl out there that can promise this, apply below. No weirdos.

It's nearly 7:55am, and I could type forever. Oh, my band has a show with Britians got Talent semi-failists Mike Fantastic! Want a ticket? £5.00, please buy one. PLEASE. If I don't sell a required amount then someones taking a bat to my knee caps. Thanks!


So this blog in a nutshell. If my feet stick out the blankee, I freak out.

fist bump
x