fried my little brains

okay, we went to see the kills last night. me and dig were both complete miseryguts, both completely preoccupied with psychotic housemates (him) and burglaries (me).

but cat claw and fried my little brains made me feel fractionally better.

fuckers

around the 20th of december last year, someone asked me what i`d like for christmas

i foolishly said "better luck for my family", `cause that`s pretty much all i *do* want

i jinxed it. ever since then, it`s all just going further and further downhill. it`s laughable.

we got back this evening to find out we`d been burgled. my dad`s antique clock (apparently worth about £1500. should`ve sold it ages ago, in my mind), mine and my ma`s jewellery boxes (including 4 birth certificates and 1 marriage certificate), the lovely pentax camera that was my fotolog staple before i got my digi, a gameboy, a minidisc player, and, most crushing of all, my fricking laptop. my fucking career.

so laugh with me, and cross your fingers that the duncan luck goes uphill from now on.

(the forensics dude took my fingerprints so they could compare and contrast etc. apparently scotland yard destroys them once they`re over, they don`t get put on a record or anything. apparently.)
**

on the plus side, i did return home to exciting packages from various ebayers, including a johnny cash lp that is now of course playing loudly. i need me some whiskey. strange they didn`t think to take them.