I had plans for today, but so did my friends, and they dragged me into their fun and excitement.

I was going to go out, but teh old flatmate came over. He brought a six-pack with him so immediately my suspicions were aroused. “Robyn,” he said, “how would you feel about looking after my cat for a few months?” It turns out that the hip warehouse where he is living in sin with his bitch is no place to have a kitty cat. So she will be living with me and will have grass and trees to play in and that other cat to hiss at.

To celebrate this, I have decided to start an online diary as if it were written by the cat. “Meow! I am so happy! I get to stay with Robyn! I like her! I like coming into her bedroom at 7.00 am and walking on her face until she gets up and feeds me! Meow!!!!”

Then it was time for Ryan’s farewell party. He didn’t actually invite me. Well, he sent me an email today asking if I was going, so I was like “uh…. yeah?” But I got there and it was choice fun.

“Top of the Pops” was on TV. The Flaming Lips played “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” and Justin Timberlake was miming along on bass wearing a headless bunny costume. In terms of cultural significance, this is like a cross between when the Flaming Lips played at the Peach Pit on “Beverly Hills 90210” and when Kurt Cobain sang “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on “Top of the Pops” in a funny voice.

Ryan knows lots of really interesting people, so there was plenty of fun happening. Of particular interest was a series of photos of some drunken antics involving his flatmates. Flatmate wearing gimp mask and soft toy animal. Flatmate wrapped in Glad Wrap. Ryan opening bathroom door and being faced with flatmate wearing soft toy animal. I’m sure Ryan is going to miss that the most.

17-year-old guys rule, but I don’t mean that in a dodgy way. (Yes I do).

Then I got a really bad caffeine withdrawal headache. Rool baaad. All I could manage to do was sit on the couch and read a sticky copy of FHM magazine. So while there were some sort of gay shenanigans going on in Ryan’s bedroom, I just sat on the couch reading about the 20 worst albums, and if Kylie Minogue is more likely to go out or stay in on Saturday nights.

So eventually I realised I wasn’t going to have any fun until I got some coffee (I want a new drug), so I bid farewell to Ryan and went to the skanky petrol station that has ok coffee.

I feel nice.

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