Bah. I'm doing that annoying post-bank-holiday timewarp thing, where you're convinced it's Monday and it actually isn't. I don't know why this would affect me, as my weeks have had no structure for quite some time, but I am still disorientated. So there.

Did spectacularly little this weekend, save buying a ticket to the Strokes in July and spending rather too long doing silly quizzes on http://www.okcupid.com which is, I know, a dating site, but I was only there for the quizzes. And there are many. (Apologies to anyone whose 2:1 chances I've just torpedoed.) I also watched L'auberge espagnole cos everyone I've met says, 'Ooh, you're sharing a flat, it must be just like L'auberge espagnole, which it isn't really. (Not so many drugs.) Anyway, immediately after watching it, I found myself weeping, for it was a beautiful portrayal of what it's like going off to a foreign country on your own, and of why it's more important to be a writer than an economist, (also of the general unfeasability of long distance relationships, but we'll gloss over that) but I've now decided it's just shameless EU propaganda (the British are ruining everyone else's fun by carrying on with Americans).

I also got incredibly excited that there is a song with my name in it on the new Franz Ferdinand album. (I also have a Franz Ferdinand ticket, courtesy of the parents.) I know this seems sad, but I have never found my name being used in any book, poem or song except for the maid in Little Women (hey, it's the kind of thing you notice when you're eight), so Well, That Was Easy is now my new favourite song.

I have an eminently manageable to-do list for today. I shall start by plucking my eyebrows.