... and another thing about London...
You know how I'm always going on about food being love, and carbohydrates are equal to fairly good sex and truly deviant stuff like chocolate and cream cheese and avocados are like a night of ecstasy with a hot and random stranger who wants nothing more than to lavish your body with all forms of delicious pleasure?
Honestly, I think the mere being in the GMT zone is enough to feed my soul all the love it requires, thereby negating the cravings and the need to shove all forms of love into my mouth.
It's a theory that came to me while I was standing in Archway tube station, leaning against a sweet vending machine. That's all I was doing. I was leaning against the machine. I wasn't plugging 20P coins into it, desperate for a wee bit of stale Caramelo. Nope, just leaning. That's all. Because in London? That's all I need to do.
The city, she loves me. She loves me a lot. She loves me like a fat and velvety bar of chocolate.
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As its Friday, we're allowed casual dress today. This wouldn't be a problem, but for the fact that one of the Piranhas - who is just another Piranha from Monday to Thursday - looks exceptionally good in denim, thus making me distinctly uncomfortable every time he walks by my desk.
Honestly, it truly is like London shook me out of the stupor I was in, because all of a sudden, the boys around me? They've come alive! They're looking good! They're... they're... ooh... he's a doll... God, they're everywhere! Everywhere! And... and... look at him...
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Happy Friday, poppets. Engage in some naughtiness this weekend. It's nothing but good for you.
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