The Meaning of Life,

In all honesty, I was going to write a bit of an I-Hate-Valentine's-But-Love-My-Amazing-Boyfriend blog, but I think the time has passed, and I think that single people do enough hating on Valentine's, so why join in? 

Besides, it will probably be more fun to read this...

Waiting in the wings of every night out is a douche bag from someone's past, and I met one of them on Saturday night. My lovely boyfriend got the chance to introduce me to his schoolfriends, and let me tell you, they had night out jerks written all over them. 

I know I bitch and moan about my degree every so all the time, but it's like the thing of you can insult your family, because you love them, but anyone else does it and they are in deeper doo-doo than a stable hand. 

Despite needing to teach someone that giving me any reason to verbally tear them a new one is a bad idea, Saturday was an awesome night out in Croydon that involved possibly a little bit too much not enough gin. Granted, I woke up with a bit of a hangover the next morning. 


Since then it's been all essays, knitting and The Vampire Diaries, and preparing to celebrate my birthday.