Billy Elliot, The Musical - What ARE You?

Amazing, that's what you are.

What do I, only go to musicals when I'm in London? Apparently.

I love getting comments from my comic-genius friends (that is, all the comments I've been getting recently, aside from the singles ones, are HILARIOUS and should be carved upon some sort of permanent stone for posterity).

I shopped on Portobello Road today (what did I buy? Anything and everything a chap can unload, they're sold by the barrel at pooooooortobellllloo roooaaad). Drunk again, PS.

Four drinks tonight, guys. I might die. Just kidding I probably won't. But what if I did?

I have to make this fast, just like my penultimate entry (that's not how you use that word, is it?), so I'll leave it at this:

Portobello Road is in Notting Hill,
I saw no big blue door in Notting Hill,
I hate the movie Notting Hill,
I bought a Vietnamese silk shirt that already has some holes in it at the street fair.

Also some postcards. Sorry Amanda, you expressly demanded that I not send you one, so you'll be the odd girl out because I totally WILL have time to write them, contrary to everything you think. And everything you do. You're wild!! You're wahhhhld!!

Dance, Billy, DANCE!