I fucking hate the sunday times

I'm in a baaaad mood. I literally had no more than 6 drinks last night yet I woke up at 6am with a migraine, drove down Stirling Hwy trying to find a chemist that was open. I couldn't find one so I sat in my parents front yard crying until 7.30am then just left without even seeing them. I also barfed up lasagna in my car.

So I'm taking my bad mood out on the journalistic shitstain The Sunday Times.

Firstly, the fact that the face of Wheels and Dollbaby is having a baby is NOT page two news. Babies in general are not news at all unless they are born with 2 weenies or a full set of teeth.

Secondly, Susan Boyle's makeover is not news at all. She still looks like the lasagna I barfed up this morning.

Thirdly (and this is the worst of it), the article How to Survive a First Date. Oh pleeeaaase Sunday Times tell me how to date.

1) don't ask how much he earns: but liiiike how will I know if he can support me when I get pregnant???

2)Keep make-up to a minimum, men prefer the natural look: Memo to Sunday Times: make-up actually duz make you look less uggers. Fuck, I wear make-up to go to the mailbox. Don't tell me what to do.

3) Don't get drunk: PLEEEEAASE as if guys don't love a drunk bitch, we are like, 70% more likely too F you if we are hammered. The secret is out.

4) Wait for him to call you after the date, if he doesn't move on: Or call him, you fucking pussy.

"A kiss at the end of the night is sufficient. Don't dare invite them home" What is this? The 19th century? If you want to give it up on the first date then just do it. Any guy who thinks that is "slutty" is a prick anyway.

This is why I don't date. That and because I barf up Lasagna in my car and I watch Mamma Mia whenever I'm down and I've managed to narrow my 'bed friends' down to Hamster, My Pet Monster and Clandrew like my bed is a fucking reality show. Just three more eliminations before I grow the fuck up.