Maoam Stripes are good too.

I've been on study leave for three days now, and obviously it's been a very busy time for me:



Between chocolate/Twilight/awesome-Will-Smith binges with extra added 'revision', I've been thinking of something to post here. I'm always, repeat ALWAYS thinking of things to write, but I was, as usual, fresh out of ideas.

And then it hit me.

By that, I mean I realised that I had just addressed a couple of balloons in my bedroom as 'Guys' when they wouldn't get out of my way.

Day three and I was already talking to semi-deflated balloons.

This was worrying.

But then it really did hit me - I had something to write about.

You see, at this time of year I'm just so damn weird. Beyond that, I'm practically unstable. As in, I should not be left alone for fear of talking to inanimate objects.

That's me in a nutshell.

I destroy clothes when I'm bored too. I'm just that good, though sadly I don't have many clothes left as a result.

I've been through tons of different phases when it comes to clothes. I've been through a goth phase, a skirt-less phase, a shirt-less phase, a dying-my-hair-green phase (I was a rocking three-year old), a fashion-conscious numb-nut phase and finally a Fuck-Clothes-I'm-Staying-In-Bed' phase. There is only one thing that has stayed constant throughout, and today it hit me, smack in the face.

Socks.

It doesn't stop there. It gets compartmentalised. They are either stripy not-stripy.

One of these categories is considerably bigger than the other.

Behold:



I think, though I am unsure as to whether I have enough evidence to support this claim, that I have a slight disorder.