152 and Still Not Fitting on a Queen Bed

By the way, that’s 152 cm, so that is around five foot tall.

Anyway, this is about a friend who shall remain nameless although 1) she never reads this anyway, and that I know for a fact and 2) people who know me and her would know who she is.

So I took the bus home with this unmentionable friend of mine, and we got onto the topic of sleeping (the explanation is hard, just deal with it). I said that I sleep on one side only because the other side has a biggish earring which digs into my ear if I sleep on it, and I’m too lazy to change it for sleepers every night. She looked at me weirdly, but then went onto say that she sprawls out when she sleeps.

“I’ve got a Queen sized bed, but I’ll start the night off at one end and end up on the other next morning.”

“You’re, what, 152? How the hell do you sleep?”

“I like to roll around a lot.”

“…that’s what she said.”

I dunno, I just thought I’d blog about that. I thought it was amusing. But Dom wouldn’t. Apparently I’m not very cool according to Dom.



Today while I was in the Glen shopping centre bathroom washing my hands, I looked up into the mirror and there was this thing on the mirror, with the words “Self Eye Test” above an empty box (drawn on) and underneath, the right hand side of the box says “healthy eye” and the left hand side of the box says “sick eye” and then it explained how you can’t tell just by looking which eye is sick.

I didn’t get it, until I realized the stuck-on writing was meant for someone much taller than me, as my eyes in the reflection weren’t even close to the writing, let alone the box where your eyes are meant to look back at you.

Secondly, in Jack’s, I realized all this time Jack thought I was a Yr 11.