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(diaryland) March 07, 2010 - 10:27 a.m.

This weekend is shaping up to be a pretty crap weekend. Don't get me wrong; Friday was good. The whole entirety of Friday was good. Very, very good. But I can't count that bit. Because that was Friday.

Yesterday (being Saturday), I followed Roland around Box Hill while he bought a toy robot with much assembly required. That was good, except I was a bit tired. Then, we went on a saga to try and buy movie tickets from a newsagent because they are cheaper than actually buying them at a cinema. That was OK, except I was more tired.

Then, the Apocalypse occurred, and that's not even the worst bit maybe. We were driving home, and the sky in front of us went black. Then, a torrent of huge hailstones. We were only a kilometre away from the house, so I guess that was a good thing. We parked in the driveway while I was shreiking like a maniac. I thought a hailstone was going to smash the windscreen, and they sounded like giant boulders hitting our roof. We stayed in the car for maybe ten to fifteen minutes with me screaming. Thinking back, I now know why Roland said he wanted to get out of the car. I was a bit loud.

While we were in the car, Roland saw the lounge room window get smashed by a hailstone. That was kind of rad, but I missed it. I was in a foetal position, making primal noises.

The hail finally stopped, but the rain and the thunder didn't. I waded to the house. I think I was only outside for fifteen seconds, but in that time I had been swimming, basically.

The thunder continued. The laundry area was flooded a bit. I kept screaming because the thunder came closer. I hate electrical storms.

Then I had a nap and then we went to see The Men Who Stare at Goats even though our window was busted. We just wanted to see that movie. It was fairly good.

This morning, I woke up and my lips were HUGE. HUGE. I think I'm allergic to something. But what? They're not going down, and I'm supposed to go to a party today. I look like Lisa Rinna.

I pondered the enormity of my mouth for a while, then I got to baking. I said I'd bake some cupcakes for the party. I'm very good at cupcakes.

But not this time. I think there was something wrong with my digital scales. The weirdness of the measurements the scales were telling me to do made the batter magically expel itself from the cupcake cases and come to rest around the cupcake cases. And the oven.

What next? It's time to go to the party empty-handed and huge-lipped. Great.

I'll keep you posted.




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