Hatfield.

Emma.Jayne.Elizabeth.Hatfield
If you find me at all familiar it could be because you attended a certain Orson gig late last year, where i exclusively won the 'who-can-eat-a-pork-pie-fastest-to-meet-orson'competition.
If you did not attend said Orson gig, you could reconise me from Christmas eve, casually perched on the Wanstead Georges' bar. This unique event occured for a number of reasons, largely due to the fact i was shit-faced on red bull and vodka, standing in an extreamly cumbersome queue packed full to the brim of bald headed-old-enough-to-be-your-dad perverts.
Today at the castle i attempted to feed the rather adorable looking baby ducklings with a snickers bar, and consequently nearly fell in the pond.
moral of the story: only feed adorable looking ducklings which are on dry land, instead of those in water. Secondly, refrain from using snickers as the form of duck food.

Equally important: will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things.I have developed a slightly strange, but true and extreme hatred for touch screen controlled devices such as mobile phones and cookers. This stems from the fact they are compleatly impossble to operate after a drink or two, they tend to freeze alot, and i have suffered 9929299 burns in the past month.

And finally...
Despite the popular theory that 'the truth comes out when your drunk', i have learnt that my brain operates the complete antithesis of this theory, when intoxicated with alcohol.
sorry guys, but yes its true. That 'up close and personal, deep and unique, friendly, heartwarming, uplifting conversation' we shared together was most proberly complete bollocks. and i proberbly dont remember it....