Donald Trump came to the UK and everybody gave a f*!#.
They tramped and shouted and trumped and stood in the park near Trump’s hotel so he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Sadly they were made to go home promptly at 9pm as the park keepers needed to shut the gates, but kudos to them for trying.
People in the UK don’t like Donald Trump, and they really aren’t afraid to say so. I can’t tell if that is British, or modern. To be British is to be coldly silent on matters one doesn’t find savoury, and turn the other cheek. There was warm and passionate and hearty hatred on the streets of Britain, and in true Scottish fashion, the Edinburgh festival signs told Trump to Fuck off Home. Hah. Even his motherland doesn’t want him.
France won the world cup and I really couldn’t care less. My dad said today, while we were watching the match, ‘Who would you like to win?’
‘nobody,’ i said.
He found that really funny for some reason. Now that England are out, I couldn’t care less. poor england, they were crying on the pitch. I felt like giving them a hug, even though their sweat and constant spitting makes me queasy. Meanwhile when one of the Frenchmen scored a goal he stuck it to the Croatian fans in the stadium. That Lacked Class.
Meanwhile, back at the ranCH, I fell asleep in the last 15 minutes of the match, and ran to the toilet to throw up when France was awarded the world cup. It really is not because france mAkes Me Sick.
iT’S because I am
hEre we go.
BECAUSE it is still very early stages of
I am not out of the danger zone.
Last time I got
I didn’t last beyond the fifth week.
So this time we are hoping and praying and taking it easy
in the hopes that this
carries on fine.
How strange. We feel like we are kids, still. So we are going to have to do a great deal of growing up very quickly.