She died like she lived: in vain.

Julie came home sick this morning, disrupting my very lovely dream and forcing me out of bed at the ungodly hour of half past ten. I couldn't get pissed though because an hour later she was freaking out, Mum was freaking out and then I had to phone my dad so he could freak out too. I was told nothing as they drove down to the doctor and I comforted myself with the thought that at least her adrenalin was still with me so she wasn't like dying or anything. She came home, thought about throwing up some more and then danced down the stairs singing "Shake your booty" louder than I would have liked. She's watching Happy Feet now as I type happy but for the fact that she's not allowed online to talk to her Devart fans.

While she was tucked up safe in bed I dragged down my sewing bag from the attic and found a couple of dresses I haven't worn in years. Unfortunately I could only get them on if I lost my bust. Pictures may follow later of my new skirt, made primarily of a giant vest top I got for a pound in one of the many charity shops down on Main Street. Seriously there's more down there than is needed for one road.

In other news I have two new freckles! This may not seem like news but when I was wee all I wanted was freckles. Everybody I was friends with had them and wished they didn't and I had none. On the one hand I was instead crazy pale and when people asked if I was ill I would lie and pout and get sent home. I never intentionally lied you understand I just knew how to take advantage of a good situation. On the other hand, well all the pretty girls had freckles and boyfriends, such as they were in primary school at least. I was pale as death and had a boy who told me one day that I was his girlfriend if this other girl decided they weren't going out anymore. Seriously. And this was like primary one. Is there something about me that screams 'hey she'd be great if I weren't already with this better girl' because it's hilariously depressing.

Picture time since I finished faster than I though, mostly because I couldn't be bothered reinforcing the pocket. It's not a great pic cause my camera broke ages ago and all I have is my mobile but hey you get the general idea, right. The pocket's a tee of my dad's recycled and I have no idea what the cyrillic says so lets hope it ain't offensive.