Today.
Going to a comic book art exhibition in Walsall. Watch this space.
Yesterday’s boredom culminated in back to back episodes of Grey’s Anatomy which near enough made me lose the will to live, although I guess it was sort of fun watching a load of unrealistically attractive interns who seem to have an awful lot of spare time on their hands bounce off each other in a large busy hospital. Games of scrabble, unexploded bombs in body cavities and dates in wards ensue. Oh and I guess a bit of life-saving was done too. And all in a day’s work!
I’m reading Stephen King. I read Misery, that was good. Scary. I decided to read it at night, not a great idea for the ol’ overactive imagination. Crazy fat physco ladies with axes and blowtorches! No ta. Now I’m reading Thinner…it’s not very good. Stephen, I’m disappointed. Maybe he thinks because he’s writing under an alias (Richard Bachman) he can skimp on the quality? Or maybe he just couldn’t be arsed to think of a good story. These are the unanswered questions of life. x