It was about the time that I began translating into grammatical English a story about an albino squirrel called Persil that I realised that my job is fucking ridiculous.
I have five A-levels. I could have been a lawyer by now.
I have five A-levels. I could have been a lawyer by now.
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It's so vastly different to be a lawyer in England. It's far less insane than the US. Doesn't grind one down to a powder. I think. At least that's my impression. I'd do it in a heartbeat but there's that old thing about not being a UK citizen and Ma and Pa too.
Regards to Persil. Tell him to use sunscreen.
What? And leave the circus?
Does Persil live in Minnesota? Because, dude, I just saw an albino squirrel run across the road in front of me this morning on my way to pickup up the woman I ride to work with. Strangest creature ever.
I've never seen an albino squirrel before in my life, and then here you are, mentioning one.
Weird, I say.
Also, migraines? Stuff like this causes the brain lock that causes the migraines.
I'm just sayin'.
Hey, my sister is moving back to the UK in the next 6 months.
What does this mean for me, you ask?
Why, visits! Lots and lots of visits!
{{{{K}}}}}
C.
Thanks to your mum from mine
I am a lawyer. It was about the time when I was, in the interests of gathering forensic material for a case, sent out onto Cheapside with two hundred quid in notes and an instruction to buy anything which could be vaginally inserted that came with a printed instruction leaflet that I realised that "fucking ridiculous" didn't even begin to describe it.