I'm starting to think that it's weirdo weekend. After reading Nyxa's journal about the crazy dude on the train, who hissed at her and started muttering prayers to himself, I think it must be that time of year. Today I got 2 phone calls from what I think was a woman, but actually sounded more like Gollum, wherein the caller started talking to me mid-sentence about exorcising the demons, that the only way to save me was to give myself over to God. o.O
That was worse than the time my friends overly religious mother told me I was evil and a bad influence for going to a Halloween party, when I was 13.
Today I had the misfortune of visiting 'Mr. Pretzel' in Camden town. No, not a humorously apt name of a porn star, but your one stop snack shop for all things salty, bread-like and twisted. I reaffirm this had nothing to do with dodgy German porn.
I love pretzels...correction, used to love pretzels, because what they served up in that shop involved a stringy piece of dough dipped in boiling butter for 10 seconds, served up in the flimsiest paper bag going with regular table salt thrown on top.
Firstly, I can't stand butter. Secondly, it wasn't even cooked and lastly, my dog refused to eat it, that's usually a pretty good sign something is bad, because my dog has eaten actual shit.
And the best part? When I asked for my £3 back because the food wasn't cooked, the girl behind the counter stared at me blankly. Turns out she doesn't speak English. I had to mime what I wanted.
After a full bottle of water and a diet coke later, I still can't get that disgusting taste out of my mouth. Euuughh Mood: Un tasty
