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'Wake up call coffee and juice' - Dawn's Escape from the World [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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'Wake up call coffee and juice' [Mar. 23rd, 2005|02:59 am]
[Current Mood |sleepysleepy]
[Current Music |Cherry Falls, Presidents of the USA - 'Peaches']

I haven't been awake to witness 3am in a long time!
In explaination, my final major project is due in tomorrow (precisely twelve hours time!) so I am up, with coffee, cramming...or at least trying! I'm exchanging the odd bit of conversation on MSN with a guy from my class who's also up working:

"This coffee is vile but oh so necessary"
"haha. so is mine."
"nescafe instant!"

Something tells me I'll be sleeping well tomorrow night!

Sunday night was fantastic!:D Debbie wanted to escape the house so after about an hour struggling to come up with things to do, we settled for the pub. BUT with people we haven't seen in ages, our old school buddies Tom, Ian, Sam, Andy, Dan, Emilie. Everytime someone got up to go to the bar, or to use the toilet, we'd all swap seats just to confuse them when they got back. Only, when I went to the bar, and this was after quite a bit of drink experimentation, they moved TABLE! It was a good night involving the Cha Cha Slide, phallic swizzle sticks and a lot of laughter.

Back to work :S
I hope you're all enjoying SLEEPING! Grr!:P
Below is my only decent scrap of inspiration and imagination left...

'Millions of peaches, peaches for me!"

From: (Anonymous)
2005-03-23 11:10 am (UTC)
hope it went ok and all!

(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: penguin_girly
2005-03-24 02:37 pm (UTC)
yo yo yo!:P

hope you got it done!well i'm sure u did....otherwise there would be a dawn shaped engravement on ur computer seat, i should think!

*to the left now y'all!!*

c ya soon...

(Reply) (Thread)
From: (Anonymous)
2005-06-02 04:00 pm (UTC)
Bartender shiny stuff in dreams are made of stooped necromancers. He sings like a banana wrist having strayed too closely to the constellations on their shaved skulls. The rain of frogs ended, the rain of blood began. The city was an amick image, the bar rang with it's shimmering drapes on fire for being the last alien on that remote, forbidding planet. Doug came by with his usual, a script that repeated endlessly 'I'll be gone!' Sixteen, I was scared silly by the deadly poisonous Zanzibar hamsters. An interesting topic was a point-blank subject in the face, related to elitist artists with their briefcases full of locusts, ready to spew fire in the faces of bandanna-wearing foxes. The sorrow was a coffin of cherryade that drank in the depth of the pit of African masks. My briefing consisted of jet-powered spaceship that was once navigated monkies into the hall of broken dreams.

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires!
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