I can't help but feel that I'm wasted on today. My makeup is really really good (incidentally I'm not exaggerating, I'm just making the point that my makeup is unusually flawless considering it is I who has applied it). 

Also, my hair is quite nice too. No stupid kinks, silky but not greasy. Not too try hard. Just nice.

And do you know what I'm doing with this (relative) perfection? I'm seated at my desk, procrastinating. I have revision to do and am not keen you see. All my housemates are out, househunting for next year, and my two best friends are having cosy time with their respective boyfriends.

Where is my boyfriend? Dropped off the face of the earth perhaps?

So, I will continue to read Belle de Jour and envy her prose; I will continue to read the guardian weekend magazine; I will continue to look good for nobody other than yours truly.