We could be heroes, just for Juande

Last night, I crashed at Amber's.

Sometime near sunrise, she got out of bed and grabbed an acoustic guitar which I hadn't noticed propped up in the far corner of her bedroom. She came back and sat on the bed naked and sang me a selection of Elvis songs ever so gently.

"I thought you said you couldn't be arsed to learn an instrument."

"Did I?"

"Yeah."

"I lied."

After the singing, she lit a few candles about the room while I skinned up. We smoked a numbah and sat chatting.

Amber lay her head on my chest, twiddling my single chest hair as I ran my fingers through her wild dark locks.

She fell asleep as the sun came up.

Not me. I felt too euphoric, too wired.

I've decided that being with Amber is what I want to do for the rest of my natural born days.

Due to the bliss I was feeling, I forgot to watch the Carling Cup final, in which my beloved Spurs beat Chelsea 2-1 after extra time.

Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!