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You can't escape your baby.

THEY infiltrate every bit of your life. Haha, "life"!

I was out. Out out. Out on my own, minus toddler, with adults, in the real world, doing real world stuff. It felt bizarre.
Something required me to have a pen. "I have a pen!"
I do have a pen in my bag. But when I grope about my bag I pull out 5 crayons, at various stages of being eaten, a pen mysteriously wrapped in a tissue which seems a bit risky, and a water pen for an Aquadraw mat. Which has leaked, obvo.

Then when it comes to writing I find myself "sounding out" the words, and discover I can't actually spell, or write anymore. Sigh.

OK, screw that, I'm off to the bar. What do I want? Err, that fruity looking thing? HOW MUCH?? Oh god. After a few sips of liquid gold or whatever the fuck it is, and a few rounds of "Is that kid old enough to be in here" I'm off to the loo. Yes it is the fifth time I've gone tonight, problem?

Wow, what have they done to the mirrors in here? They make you look all haggard and fat and.... oh.... ANYWAY, where's my lipbalm?

Here's a hairy dummy, oh bless. Three packets of raisins, hmm... maybe later. A plastic necklace, oh I used to wear those in an "ironic" way, SIGH. Some duplo bricks. A LIP BALM! Ah, it has been smooshed. Over a cute little face which I am trying to forget right now so I can get drunk and be irresponsible! Agh!

Right, let's get drunk! Let's take an essential photo for Facebook to prove how cool we are! CHEEEEESE! Oh look, don't we look stupid, oh that's my daughter... Yeah she was being so daft. In this one it's her birthday, yeah I know cute right? Oh nooooooooo...

I'M GOING HOME. It's only 10.30. I DON'T CARE.

Ahh. Warmth and bed. Why are there stickers all over my pyjamas? And a puzzle on the floor?

Peppa fucking Pig get out of my fucking bed!!!!!!!!


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Well, SCREW that. I love writing and talking shit, so I need to get it out, regardless!


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