Sometimes I worry about giving my sarcasm muscle a repetitive strain injury.

Do all the people in holland suffer from vertigo, but none of them know it yet?


 . . . 


Bluh! Late blog post again. In fairness, it was either this or the Playstation, and the Playstation was here first.
The pic there >>> is of another character I made. (link)
It's like a game of spot-the-difference between the full body shot and the bust. It was one in the morning. So sue me.


 . . . 


Also, I'm writing this post in work, Alt+Tabbing every other second, so you can blame that on the general lack of spellcheck going on here. And humour. And content.


 . . . 


It wouldn't be so bad only I have nothing to talk about. Nothing interesting, I mean. Sure, I could go on all the usual rant and raves about how much I hate stuff, but right now I'm knackered / bolloxed / fecked / braindead / spaced / generally tired as befucked. I wasn't plastered / slaughtered / off my face / ossified / shitfaced / rat-arsed / severely inebriated last night, and didn't even charm the one-eyed snake / rub one out / play a solo game of handball / have some private time with Palm-era Anderson and her five friends / have a "quiet night in" yesterday. I'm just tired 's all. And now I'm sitting here bored shitless / stupid / goggle-eyed / slack-jawed / numb / comatose so I don't know what I should be doing with my time. Obviously I could afford to pump iron / work up a sweat / go gymming / some other euphimism / exercise more, but as the wise man once said: "Feck that for a game of monopoly / hackey-sack / Call of Duty / Ludus Romanus / Soldiers!".


Thesauruses make everything better. 


( / cooler / awesomer / winner )
 . . . 
There ye go. One short, mildly retarded blog post. Like a midget with a hammer embedded in it's skull. Now go and enjoy college while you're still there, or something. . .