It's that time of year again. The time of year when my mind separates into two distinct individuals. When I can agree and then disagree with myself in almost an instant.
The first "Betty" is a rational (ish) type of person. She's (sometimes) quite cool and would rather discuss Gregory David Roberts in the pub over a lovely pint of Redback than thrash out the reasons that Jordan and Peter make a good couple.
The second "Betty" is a different woman altogether. She has the IQ of a sub-intellectual marsupial and lives for the next episode of 'Oh My God, I Can't Believe What Britney Did To Break Her Baby Next'.
This is where the psyche of my two oceans collide and swirl all reality and fantasy into a big turbulent karmic storm.
Big Brother has landed on the telly again. Say hello to the next three months of pretending to not give a toss about the pretty but dumb boys and girls. I'll never admit to enjoying seeing these vacant people running around a tiny house in no clothes and grappling willies.
There's a gay cowboy, a mother/daughter team with matching boobjobs and a mole whose main reason for being in the house is to sabotage other peoples happiness in the house!
It's like a car crash. I'm transfixed. I can't look away!
....If I meet you in the street though, I shall deny all such BB addictions and take action to try and get you sectioned under the mental health act!
* Re: title. This is what I caught one of my patients muttering to herself the other night!
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