On any normal week day I would be leaving my house in a matter of moments, but for me Thursdays are special. On a Thursday I have the pleasure of being timetabled without a lesson for first period, meaning that as opposed to nine o'clock I don't have to be in college until quarter to eleven. Although unlike most of my peers who see the time without a lesson as an opportunity to catch up on some lost slumber, I decide to wake up as normal at fifteen minutes to seven and then just lounge about, usually scantily clad, until my mum and sister have left the house. Then at this stage I have a shower and then parade about listening to Dolly Parton incredibly loudly and then normally after mellowing down and dressing in something less chest revealing I progress onto the real event of the morning. Fifa. Now I'm not sure what it is, but there's something about playing Xbox at a time when you're normally sat deliberating over the conversion of halogenoalkanes into alcohols or having a class discussion about how bad Stalin actually was (he was bad, jussss sayin') that makes you feel really really cool.
After discussing Xbox and Fifa for longer than some of our fans can tolerate I shall digress and slide cleanly into a new topic. Working 9 to 5, what a way to make a living. Recently my sister has started her work experience changing nappies and cleaning up sick at a nursery, and she thinks that her hours are extortionate and ridiculous. They aren't. HEY MACARENA, compilation albums do no-one any good, they just fill my iPod with music that makes me smile and makes other people judge me.
At this time on a normal day I would have just knocked for my tall friend, and no doubt he'd be wearing a generic chequered shirt, because he does that.
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