But Google's PISSING ME OFF and I thought what better way to ironically blog about them. You can get paid if you blog enough, by AdSense, which I set up as soon as I hit 18. Because I need money. Because I am poor. Because I spend all my money on jumpers Karen Gillan wears so I can pretend I'm her. I live a sad, sad existence. I genuinely wonder daily why I have any friends. I was asked to go out tonight to get drunk with Tim (who will go batshit mental that I've mentioned him in this, because he's badgered me for long enough), because that's what all the cool people do, apparently. My excuse what that I was watching One Direction in my Karen Gillan jumper, playing Solitaire WITH ACTUAL CARDS and listening to S Club 7.
The rest of my time I've spent building up good karma, taking Gen to meet Noel Fielding for her 18th,
In all honesty, when I haven't been out in London living the high life like the ultimate partyguuurrrrrrl I am, I've been putting my brain through shit. Serious shit. I've unleashed monsters on it and the poor sod couldn't even put up a fight so tried to ache its way out through my eyes. There are parts of my brain I didn't even know I had to use before A Levels. They're stuck in the depths and I'm TRYING to will them out with bacon, but they're having none of it. Dyed my hair blonde to make it sunnier, but no. Jammed. Don't blame them. IT'S A JUNGLE OUT HERE.
I was talking about earning money. So to pay for all my completely necessary material items, I need the money Google are willing to pay me. But they're not paying because of the PAAAAAAAAAAYMENT THRESHOOOOOOOOLD (say like Peter Dickinson). I click on PAAAAAAAAAAYMENT THRESHOOOOOOOOLD to find out what mine is, but it DOESN'T BLOODY TELL ME. So it's all PAAAAAAAAAAYMENT THRESHOOOOOOOOLDing in my face, but NOT TELLING ME WHAT IT IS. HOW AM I MEANT TO TRY AND GET MY MONEY IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS.
I can't get money, and I don't know when Waitrose Christmas overtime is, and I don't understand Psychology, and my wordcount isn't going up with my EPQ, and I'm denying my Media coursework, and Cardiff uni's teasing me with email's like "We have our decisionnnnnn....BUT WE'RE NOT GONNA TELL YOU JUST YET WE'RE GONNA KEEP YOU IN SUSPENNNSSSSSE BECAUSE IT'S FUNNNNNNNNN tehehehehe" and my room's a MESS and there are locks everywhere in my life AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE BLOODY KEYS ARE. APART FROM CAPS LOCK. QUITE GOOD AT USING THAT ONE.
DON'T JUDGE ME