Swiggity Swooty (I'm coming for that booty)

I was really angry when he told me to put the tablet down and get dressed for Acting. So in a fit of pique I asked whether he'd looked up the public swimming times at the pools I can get into free, and he said no, and I said well I didn't want to do it anyway, although really I did. Incidentally, my forehead is sore where I banged it with my cooler-shaker at the music festival yesterday.

So, in Acting we went over our lines and performances for the showcase production next week and we could hear the teenagers whispering from behind the curtain and if the little boy doesn't behave himself next week, he'll be out. But I was paired up with my girlfriend Sydney. Last night I drew a love heart on the shower-screen with the arrow through it and S&M underneath, nothing to do with whips and chains though. If I'd put M&S it wouldn't have been about quality menswear at sensible prices either.

Then I got so much of what I truly wanted (screen-time) that my legs seized up. Even later, Jof (with her new haircut) taught me to crochet-knit and we giggled so much there was nearly a Trouser Incident™ and I got hiccups. Even even later, I selected 'Demolition Man' for supper viewing, with Sly Stallone and W. Snipes Esq, and the civil servant from Yes, Minister and lots of guns and bombs and electrical discharges and Blue Cherenkov Stasis Pellets and a socially uneven post-violent Utopian Society. Bed and instant sleep was 1116 and at exactly 1216 I dreamt a loud demonstrative swordfight where I shouted a bit.