Another similarly bizarre thing is the last 5 digits on my passport number are my mum and dad's phone number, when there is absolutely no connection between the two (the passport number is something to do with the date issued).

It's things like this that make me believe there is some big conspiracy in the world.

Or maybe not.

But hey, the Ruffnecked Judge has finally got himself a job so woohoo! I can stop stressing about that now and get back onto stressing about lame-o pop songs....

I'm not a big fan of hot weather: theory - it is a lot easier to make yourself warmer on a cold day than cooler on a hot day. Plus, I worry about how hot the cats are in their fur coats on days like today. I don't mind clean hot days, when it is sunny and there is an obvious reason why it is warm but on humid, overcast days like today, it is just vile. < /britishness and weather speak >

I don't know what it is but there is something so amusing about up-themselves binty blondes getting diarrhoea and then having a code brown situation. No, wait a second, I DO know why it is so funny.

AND, it has just started to rain, for the first time all day, just as I am planning to go home. Bit more of a d'oh.

No gun obsessed lesbian actresses in my dreams last night, so disappointed. Even more of a d'oh.

Then there was a time jump, and I was happily living in this other place and it had grown so much that its town centre had run-down parts and an Oxfam and a Gregg's bakery. But I got the sense that the world that we had all escaped knew about us and were going to launch an attack so we should defend our selves. I wandered all around the town centre trying to find a shop that might be able make weaponary. Then in a moment of solace, I was walking down a corridor to the outskirts of the settlement, which now was rather handily surrounded by a ring of mountains, when I bumped into Jorja Fox - an actress who always plays gun obsessed lesbians (by always, I mean, once or perhaps twice). She told me that if I, the real life pacifist, pushed forward with my idea to arm the society then we would become just like the Logan Run world that we escaped. Then we got kidnapped by the Logan's Run people and it got kinda hazy.

I'm sure this has really deep meaning or something but all I know is that next time I go to my mum and dad's house, I'm checking for secret societies under the living room rug...

ANYWAY, back to the story. She, and therefore I, was in the park next to our house at about midnight and I decided enough was enough and tried to pick her up. She ran off. I ran after her. She started running in a figure of eight around two trees. I started running in a figure of eight around two trees, arms outstretched, hands in "grab" position. Someone nearby started playing some comical music, slightly speeded up. It was quite farcical. I was waiting for several large-breasted blondes to show up in nurses/french maid/school girl costumes to show up...

I gave up after about ten minutes and went inside. She wandered in of her own accord a few minutes later. There is a lesson to be learnt here but I'm not sure what; it may involve boobs though...