No one actually reads this bit, do they? (If you do, please send me an e-mail saying 'I know all your secrets, Miss Blabbermouth.) So I'm going to inflict my WEIRD DREAM on you. Or rather, the frighteningly accurate analysis of my dream given by the dream analyser on the delia*s website. It's spookerama, I'm tellin' ya.
Oh. My. God. It's true. Sometimes I think I'm so mean. I've got 2 little sisters and I'm sure when we were kids they saw me as an 'ominous threatening prescence.' When we were little, Michelle, the youngest, had to write an essay describing her siblings. She wrote: 'I have 2 sisters. One is called Lisa and is nice. The other is the sister who hits me.' I remember standing at the top of the stairs in my uniform, looking down at my mother, who was collapsing into laughter at the bottom holding Michelle's English homework, going 'you're The Sister Who Hits Her. Ha ha ha ha ha!!!', over and over again. For weeks afterwards, my nickname was The Sister Who Hits Her. My mother has a cruel sense of humour.
Thing is, it's still going on. I'm still horrible. It was Michelle's birthday this weekend and even though I gave her pressies on Friday night, when we had a family meal at my other sister's place, I forgot to call her on Sunday - her actual birthday - to wish her a good day. And it was her TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!! I am the most evil older sister in the universe. I am the Saddam Hussein of sisterhood.
Still, at least people apparently find my moustache alluring. I'd better stop using the Louis Marcel Extra Delicate Facial wax strips immediately. It's obviously the only thing I've got going for me.