You know what deeply emotional crying would look like in a written form? Well; that.

Back in Wolverhampton.
Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Seriously.

I like the new Doctor, Matt Smith is really excellent. I had my doubts. I wanted to like him, but I was almost expecting him to be a dissapointment. BUT HE'S AWESOME. And his assistant, Amy Pond, I like her too.
The first episode was amazing, and the second one was really good too.

Hmmm, I think at some point I did have the mental ability to "review" shows rather than just confess my undying love for them. But that's all you're getting this time, I'm afraid.

I've decided I dislike toffee.
And I like sweetcorn.
But not in fajitas.
And definitely not toffee in fajitas.
Although the idea intrigues me.

Moving on.

I'm in a band now, with between 2 and 4 of my bestest buddies (no-one seems quite sure who is actually involved). Technically we have been writing songs for quite a while now, and are happy with a massive: 1. But we have a name now, so I guess that makes us officially a band.
Wednesday's Child.

It comes from that poem. You know the one. Monday's child is blah, blah, blah, Tuesday's child is... yeah you know it.
"Wednesday's Child is full of woe"
Yeah, I know. Emo. Crying. Blaming the world for all your insignificant white, middle class problems. Don't blame me, I didn't choose it, I live with it.

I, incidentally, am a Monday's child. Which means I should be "fair of face". So... good looking. That was supposed to be my one birth-day given quality. Proof, if it were ever needed, that poems lie.