Came to waipuk on bus yesterday.
Had lunch with grandparents and extended family for grandparents 50th wedding annerversary.
Go back to wellington tommorow at 9am- staying awake now so I can sleep on the bus.
And now a word from my sponsers: The insanity demons.
"We ask you a question: is it insane to walk up to someone and ask them, quite polietly and perhaps holding a frozen fish stick in the manner of a microphone, ask them I do repeat myself but with deliberate effect, ask them if you are insane meaning am I insiane not are you insane because obvio0usly you would know if you were insane or would you for it follows that if I had to ask a complete strnger about the state of my thought jello while waving frozen fish products that you may, I state again, may have to ask someone else if you are insane.
SO ARE YOU/ ME/ MEYOU/ US INSANES?
It is a sobering thought indeed. I really hate this time. I am yes, as sober as I have been in monts, bored tired, finding my coherancy slipping, have just stayed awake to watch a test of rugby OF RUGBY a test of rugby. At 1am. Not alot of sports get mentioned here in this here blog because I do not care.
This is the third time I have listened to the dresden dolls albums today. I like their ability to shout. If there is nothing to shhout at they imagine the things that annoy them, and then shout. I should like to write the little (yet highly explosive) book of anger.
If you're feeling angry, stub your toe, then run down the street until you find that pet that your parents didn't get for your fourth birthday and kick it, with your sore toe, until it (the pet or your toe) bleeds.
Perhaps the little book of madness would be a better option. Anger is a far to considered and rational emotion, don't you agree? X happens, so you do X to Y, or possibly vice versa. Whereas madness is more a X happens and theirfore Y equals a mouse while you exist in a quatum certainty that both eats all the ice cream on the roof of your flat in your night gown screeaming obscenities at the kindergaten below. If mouse equals more than yesterday, you are wearing pants.
I have knots in my hair. I am only three bottles of wine and/or missed showers away from being your steriotypical rating, pantless madman.
Much like every saturday night.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
DEATH
Lets see how quickly I can do this one. I think it might be a post that will have more effect if it is brief:
Saturday landlord came fixed roof: also man came to dry carpet.
Carpet in room was wet from leaking roof. Carpet also mouldy.
Man-Dry-Carpet stepped inside room.
"What the fuck is that? Holy shit, this is some bad mould- do not sleep in here. Seriously, that mould will kill you."
Yes, I have slept in some pretty crappy places in my life, closets, bus stops, in beds with too many people, in beds without people, on roofs: but this is the first time a room in which I have lived in has become so pissed with me that it has tried to end my life. WOOO!
GO DEATH MOULD!
In other news- the room is now fine to sleep in again- it has been demoulded. I we out in celebration, to a
Saturday landlord came fixed roof: also man came to dry carpet.
Carpet in room was wet from leaking roof. Carpet also mouldy.
Man-Dry-Carpet stepped inside room.
"What the fuck is that? Holy shit, this is some bad mould- do not sleep in here. Seriously, that mould will kill you."
Yes, I have slept in some pretty crappy places in my life, closets, bus stops, in beds with too many people, in beds without people, on roofs: but this is the first time a room in which I have lived in has become so pissed with me that it has tried to end my life. WOOO!
GO DEATH MOULD!
In other news- the room is now fine to sleep in again- it has been demoulded. I we out in celebration, to a
Friday, July 18, 2008
Why am I awake?
Gah! Would you look at the time? It's both six am, and four days since I last posted. How come the time is going past so quickly? It's not as if I do much, but the days are falling past into the ether like a substance which is habitually preyed upon by the ethernites. Or whatever. I woke up at two am and finished the book I was reading and found that my brain was doing its buzzing thing with ideas and so decided to write some of them down. Then I decided to write something here without any clear purpose as to what to write about. And that's a story for the history books.
Don't you hate that phrase "would you look at the time"? Whenever someone says it I have the horrible childish urge to say "No, look at it yourself."
Anyway, how about dreams? Always a hot topic, and a window into your own subconsiousness, even if it is a rather grimy window and shows a dirty room with strange things on the shelves gathering dust. It smells like an old ice-cream container that has been washed many times and has mostly been used to store curry. There is an old woman in a rocking chair who appears to be knitting but on closer imspection there is no wool on the needles and the fingers aren't moving. The room contains a complete lack of cat.
...
But yes, my dreams. Haven't had too many lately, probably a reflection of the rather stagnant state I have been in creativity wise. But two have stood out, two which I have had in the four days since I returned to wellington where there is life.
The first was a rather bizzare dream about being chased though the air ducts of an office building by law enforcement officers and young children for undisclosed crimes. I tried to escape via the fire escape but since that escape is made for fire and not people I was caught by a large number of secret police looking people in black hoddies with riot sheilds. I am punished with, and here the style of the dream changes from the mostly realistic if proportionately askew style of the dream previously into a side scrolling video game where I am forced to wear a large dunces cap. I run from side to side as things such as oversized fruit, cows and even people which I am to skewer upon my dunces cap. There was much puree and blood. Dream end.
The other dream which happened the night before requires a small amout of preface: I had been to the bulk food warehouse place where they sell the feedstuffs and the booze cheap. The cheap booze that I had bought was a bottle of absinthe. This green substance of 75% is known to provide the drinker with strange visions, but in the storebought variety the vision creating substance has been mostly removed. Mostly. But still a shot before bedtime can often provide the drinker with some strange a vivid dreams.
So as I went off to bed that night I was well anticipating some excellent and bizzare dreams, clearly remembered in graphic detail and dolby surround sound.
What I got was a dream of a toilet.
It was a very clean toilet, very similar to the toilet in my flat, and very graphic, perfectly detailed in my dreamscape but, when all is said and done, it was a toilet. At one moment in my dream I looked over to the corner of the room where, in graphic detail, there was a cobweb. I went back to looking at the toilet. Nothing else happened.
Now, If I really wanted to spend some time looking at a toilet, there is one very handilly situated in my house. Amazing though it may be, it is not a pastime I send much time on, this toilet gazing.
I really, really hope that that wasn't an accurate representation of my own subconsious. Really.
In other news, now I try to sleep again.
Don't you hate that phrase "would you look at the time"? Whenever someone says it I have the horrible childish urge to say "No, look at it yourself."
Anyway, how about dreams? Always a hot topic, and a window into your own subconsiousness, even if it is a rather grimy window and shows a dirty room with strange things on the shelves gathering dust. It smells like an old ice-cream container that has been washed many times and has mostly been used to store curry. There is an old woman in a rocking chair who appears to be knitting but on closer imspection there is no wool on the needles and the fingers aren't moving. The room contains a complete lack of cat.
...
But yes, my dreams. Haven't had too many lately, probably a reflection of the rather stagnant state I have been in creativity wise. But two have stood out, two which I have had in the four days since I returned to wellington where there is life.
The first was a rather bizzare dream about being chased though the air ducts of an office building by law enforcement officers and young children for undisclosed crimes. I tried to escape via the fire escape but since that escape is made for fire and not people I was caught by a large number of secret police looking people in black hoddies with riot sheilds. I am punished with, and here the style of the dream changes from the mostly realistic if proportionately askew style of the dream previously into a side scrolling video game where I am forced to wear a large dunces cap. I run from side to side as things such as oversized fruit, cows and even people which I am to skewer upon my dunces cap. There was much puree and blood. Dream end.
The other dream which happened the night before requires a small amout of preface: I had been to the bulk food warehouse place where they sell the feedstuffs and the booze cheap. The cheap booze that I had bought was a bottle of absinthe. This green substance of 75% is known to provide the drinker with strange visions, but in the storebought variety the vision creating substance has been mostly removed. Mostly. But still a shot before bedtime can often provide the drinker with some strange a vivid dreams.
So as I went off to bed that night I was well anticipating some excellent and bizzare dreams, clearly remembered in graphic detail and dolby surround sound.
What I got was a dream of a toilet.
It was a very clean toilet, very similar to the toilet in my flat, and very graphic, perfectly detailed in my dreamscape but, when all is said and done, it was a toilet. At one moment in my dream I looked over to the corner of the room where, in graphic detail, there was a cobweb. I went back to looking at the toilet. Nothing else happened.
Now, If I really wanted to spend some time looking at a toilet, there is one very handilly situated in my house. Amazing though it may be, it is not a pastime I send much time on, this toilet gazing.
I really, really hope that that wasn't an accurate representation of my own subconsious. Really.
In other news, now I try to sleep again.
Monday, July 14, 2008
It is now halfway through the morning side of the night...
... and I am getting tired. Which is, in fact, the plan. Tommorow (or today depending on how you look at "time") I shall get up early, drag myself to the bus and then, very hopefully, sleep the sleep of a hundred men and women, post coitus.
It is my seafeguard against the evil of the bus. The evil enters through your eyes and strangels your occular nerve, causing images to last twice as long in your brain. Theirfor, a 3 hour bus trip laeves imprinted on your mind 9 hours of images of the wonderfully empty countryside of new zealand. There are only so many sheep you can count before you run out of numbers and your head explodes.
The reason I am not a maths teacher becomes apparent.
Speaking of teaching, I have to get my A into G as my old primary school teacher used to say, and apply for some releif positions. I've been put as number one on one list, but that's it so far. Although my plan is to reach enlightenment through the next six months by simply keeping my head so empty that something worthwhile will fall into it (whats up there is mildewed and cobweb covered junk or antiques, either way things you don't want to touch for fear of breaking) starving in the process is not part of the plan.
On my way back to wellington tommorow I shall be passing the bus that is taking ex-girlfriend-Uma to her new job in Auckland. I must say, I am starting to feel slightly bitter now about a,b, and the lack of c, and regretful about x, y, and upset over z. (ALGEBRA TO THE POWER OF AWESOME!) But me is thinking that is normal. Can't have an end of a relationship without regret, and since I have been sober since being in the Bay the cold knife of depression/regret has managed to prick the delicate pink skin beneath my insobriety armour.
As soon as I get back to wellington I will give that Armour a good repair at the blacksmiths. For those of you not so good with that tricky bastard Mr. Metaphor, this means I'm going to drunk at the nearest drinking establishment. See how I did that? The armour is booze, and the blaksmiths is... oh never mind. My wit be lost on the lower classes.
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Poo!
I then collapse into a fit of giggles and refuse to do an housework for the rest of the week. A wit like mine, I restate, is a heavy burden not meant for lesser mortals.
Well, now time for sleep. The faster I sleep, the sooner the awful busride be over, the sooner I make an ass of myself while trying to chat up the blacksmithess over a large mug of embers.
Damn it Flan! You broke Mr. Metaphor! AGAIN!
It is my seafeguard against the evil of the bus. The evil enters through your eyes and strangels your occular nerve, causing images to last twice as long in your brain. Theirfor, a 3 hour bus trip laeves imprinted on your mind 9 hours of images of the wonderfully empty countryside of new zealand. There are only so many sheep you can count before you run out of numbers and your head explodes.
The reason I am not a maths teacher becomes apparent.
Speaking of teaching, I have to get my A into G as my old primary school teacher used to say, and apply for some releif positions. I've been put as number one on one list, but that's it so far. Although my plan is to reach enlightenment through the next six months by simply keeping my head so empty that something worthwhile will fall into it (whats up there is mildewed and cobweb covered junk or antiques, either way things you don't want to touch for fear of breaking) starving in the process is not part of the plan.
On my way back to wellington tommorow I shall be passing the bus that is taking ex-girlfriend-Uma to her new job in Auckland. I must say, I am starting to feel slightly bitter now about a,b, and the lack of c, and regretful about x, y, and upset over z. (ALGEBRA TO THE POWER OF AWESOME!) But me is thinking that is normal. Can't have an end of a relationship without regret, and since I have been sober since being in the Bay the cold knife of depression/regret has managed to prick the delicate pink skin beneath my insobriety armour.
As soon as I get back to wellington I will give that Armour a good repair at the blacksmiths. For those of you not so good with that tricky bastard Mr. Metaphor, this means I'm going to drunk at the nearest drinking establishment. See how I did that? The armour is booze, and the blaksmiths is... oh never mind. My wit be lost on the lower classes.
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Poo!
I then collapse into a fit of giggles and refuse to do an housework for the rest of the week. A wit like mine, I restate, is a heavy burden not meant for lesser mortals.
Well, now time for sleep. The faster I sleep, the sooner the awful busride be over, the sooner I make an ass of myself while trying to chat up the blacksmithess over a large mug of embers.
Damn it Flan! You broke Mr. Metaphor! AGAIN!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
I have a cat upon me
Yes, yes I do. I want a real cat though: not that this isn't a real cat, but this isn't really my cat. Its my sisters cat, and even though she dont live here anymore she wont let me take him away.
I like cats. They are just slightly more demanding females with slightly less yowling factor. And they hunt mice. The hauteaur factor is definately a plus as well. I have never had relationship anxieties with a cat- I've always known exactly where I stand.
Anyhoo, before this post gets freaky:
Sometimes I read over posts that I have made before, and that sometimes happened again reciently. I have noticed something: I seem to be a lot less bitter about things now than I was, say, three months ago, when I was comparing the circle of life with the circle of nature- two very, very different things. I do happen to wonder weather my angst will com eback again...I mean, In todays society, you are naked without your angst- and there are so many things to be angsty about: politics, relegion, poeple of the opposite sex, poeple of the same sex, lack of food, the eating of too much food, poeple of indeterminate sex, petrol, the eating of too many people... the list goes on and on. So what am I doing not being agnsty? And in Waipuk I canne drink as much as I would like, my relatives would stage an intervention...
Perhaps its because I;m in one of those "between spaces" I like so much. No job, no money, but i'm in a band. Hoorah.
Notice in the list above that no one complains about cats. Well, they do, but it's a short lived complaint. Viva los Cat!
I like cats. They are just slightly more demanding females with slightly less yowling factor. And they hunt mice. The hauteaur factor is definately a plus as well. I have never had relationship anxieties with a cat- I've always known exactly where I stand.
Anyhoo, before this post gets freaky:
Sometimes I read over posts that I have made before, and that sometimes happened again reciently. I have noticed something: I seem to be a lot less bitter about things now than I was, say, three months ago, when I was comparing the circle of life with the circle of nature- two very, very different things. I do happen to wonder weather my angst will com eback again...I mean, In todays society, you are naked without your angst- and there are so many things to be angsty about: politics, relegion, poeple of the opposite sex, poeple of the same sex, lack of food, the eating of too much food, poeple of indeterminate sex, petrol, the eating of too many people... the list goes on and on. So what am I doing not being agnsty? And in Waipuk I canne drink as much as I would like, my relatives would stage an intervention...
Perhaps its because I;m in one of those "between spaces" I like so much. No job, no money, but i'm in a band. Hoorah.
Notice in the list above that no one complains about cats. Well, they do, but it's a short lived complaint. Viva los Cat!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Amazing occurances and Occular disturbances!
Look at the bottom of the last post I made. It seems as if someone reads this humble thing from time to time: and probably, since it has been so long since I've done any solid block of posts, this person, from america, is probably one of the few people who have seen any of the new posts. Holla Dave. Probably. But word will get around and people whom I know will read the blog again, I am sure.
People have told me to publish this thing, but what do all you think, mysterious quiet readers from perhaps beyond our my own easy shores?
Anyway, I'm other news, last post I forgot to relate something quite importaint. Importaint things have a habit of slipping my mind, which makes me such a good teacher.
Anyway again: when I stepped off the bus last night a found that due to a telecommunications malfunction there was noone to pick me up, I sent another of my hard earned text messages and as I waited on the corner for my escort another car pulled up next to the nearby public toilets. Out jumped young lady, as they do, and went into the toilets for the public. So far so good, it's what public toilets are for. But then I hear a shattering sound and out from the public toilets come that same lady I saw going into the public toilets but this time burdened with two rolls of public toilet paper.
Many people, some I even know, will not use public toilets. Of those that do, one of the common complaints is the quality of the toilet paper that one can so easily put a finger through and has a texture not unlike greased baking paper. It may have been done for a prank, and if so, tut tut indeed, someones house is now several meter the worse for low grade dunny paper, but if someone actually had to go into the public toilet and steal toilet paper for their own use...
I'm betting on the former rather than the latter because, after all, this is waipuk.
The other public toilet in wapukurau (yes, we have two!) has been subject to defeacements, beatings and a car running into it. After that last occurance the council decided that they would erect on the site a toilet made of steel and declare in the newspaper that the new "state of the art" toilet of publications was "invincible".
That night the toilet was dowsed in petrol and set alight.
Hurrah.
In other news, today played scabble with mother and grandmother. I got all the vowels. My favourite board: I, I, I, U, U, K, Z.
If you can make a word out of those letters I shall buy you candy. So much candy.
People have told me to publish this thing, but what do all you think, mysterious quiet readers from perhaps beyond our my own easy shores?
Anyway, I'm other news, last post I forgot to relate something quite importaint. Importaint things have a habit of slipping my mind, which makes me such a good teacher.
Anyway again: when I stepped off the bus last night a found that due to a telecommunications malfunction there was noone to pick me up, I sent another of my hard earned text messages and as I waited on the corner for my escort another car pulled up next to the nearby public toilets. Out jumped young lady, as they do, and went into the toilets for the public. So far so good, it's what public toilets are for. But then I hear a shattering sound and out from the public toilets come that same lady I saw going into the public toilets but this time burdened with two rolls of public toilet paper.
Many people, some I even know, will not use public toilets. Of those that do, one of the common complaints is the quality of the toilet paper that one can so easily put a finger through and has a texture not unlike greased baking paper. It may have been done for a prank, and if so, tut tut indeed, someones house is now several meter the worse for low grade dunny paper, but if someone actually had to go into the public toilet and steal toilet paper for their own use...
I'm betting on the former rather than the latter because, after all, this is waipuk.
The other public toilet in wapukurau (yes, we have two!) has been subject to defeacements, beatings and a car running into it. After that last occurance the council decided that they would erect on the site a toilet made of steel and declare in the newspaper that the new "state of the art" toilet of publications was "invincible".
That night the toilet was dowsed in petrol and set alight.
Hurrah.
In other news, today played scabble with mother and grandmother. I got all the vowels. My favourite board: I, I, I, U, U, K, Z.
If you can make a word out of those letters I shall buy you candy. So much candy.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Gah blah blah beh
Busses. Oh how I loathe long distance bus trips. This one was worse that the ole bus trips of yore for some reason: I slept for two hours (yes! less bus to remember!) but then for the final hour and a half my brain did that really cool "well, since I know I'm not to long away from getting off this thing I'm gonna look at my watch every minute and make the time strech out reeeeeeeaaally long" thing. And for some reason, once it got dark, the driver didn't put on the lights so what I did was I sat in the dark, not reading, not writing, just listening to the quiet scritchy sound of someones earphones and play "guess the song". I couldn't.
So now I am in Waipukurau. Why? Why not. I can do what I like. I'm a man now, I have insurance and everything. There is not much to do here that I couldn't do at home, except eat all my parents food, kind of as a "thanks" for supporting my through all these years at uni. And when I say all my parents food, you can be assured that I mean all my parents food, and then I shall knick some teaspoons ahahahahahaha!
I don't mind being back home, as long as I am not here for too long, but one thing I do mind is my parents reliance on the TV. All the time it is on. Tonight, we had a choice between watching Beach Patrol, the american version, wife swap, between an unhealthilly buff familly and a family of dwarves, and corronation street, the only soap opera to have a character be born, age and die in real time and still not have anything of note happen to them. I voted to turn the TV off, but my parents vetoed me and watched beach patrol. A man drove his boat onto the beach and the lifesavers pulled guns upon him. It was the best half hour of my life. Honestly.
So yes, TV sucks, and my parents decided not to have sky anymore so no cartoons for me. Just the hollow, empty expanse of the internet, where intellegent beings have not yet been found.
"Oh, a slight against internet denizens! Haven't heard that one before Flan!"
...
...
...Shut up.
So now I am in Waipukurau. Why? Why not. I can do what I like. I'm a man now, I have insurance and everything. There is not much to do here that I couldn't do at home, except eat all my parents food, kind of as a "thanks" for supporting my through all these years at uni. And when I say all my parents food, you can be assured that I mean all my parents food, and then I shall knick some teaspoons ahahahahahaha!
I don't mind being back home, as long as I am not here for too long, but one thing I do mind is my parents reliance on the TV. All the time it is on. Tonight, we had a choice between watching Beach Patrol, the american version, wife swap, between an unhealthilly buff familly and a family of dwarves, and corronation street, the only soap opera to have a character be born, age and die in real time and still not have anything of note happen to them. I voted to turn the TV off, but my parents vetoed me and watched beach patrol. A man drove his boat onto the beach and the lifesavers pulled guns upon him. It was the best half hour of my life. Honestly.
So yes, TV sucks, and my parents decided not to have sky anymore so no cartoons for me. Just the hollow, empty expanse of the internet, where intellegent beings have not yet been found.
"Oh, a slight against internet denizens! Haven't heard that one before Flan!"
...
...
...Shut up.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Unnaceptable
Two months without doing one of these things. Unnacceptabblleee. So is my spelling. Always has been rather. This post may be slightly worse than usual because, even with my physical being wrapped in layers of clothing and a duvet, it is too cold to move my fingers properly.
Anyway, I guess everyone has been wondering what I have been doing reciently, yes? Well, the list of acheivements is not a short one, but here is a quick overview of my activities:
- finished my last TE
- finished all the assignments that I needed to do to complete my teaching diploma. SHould be getting the certificate of well done ness in the mail sometime soonish
- began a relationship.
- was dumped
- began the relationship again
- have been dumped again.
- drank
- had a few parties
The above list is not in any particular order, but you get the picture. Or a picture. Of the kind that your 3yr old spawn comes home from kindergaten waving proudly and you put it on your fridge even though the colours were horribly chosen and the people have no knecks. Or head. In fact, it is a picture of three blobs with four sticks attached standing beside a square.
Well, what is past is past- won't do us any good to dwell on such matters will it?
Perhaps a more pertinent question: What will I do now?
Well, although it may seem that the world is now the mollosc of my choice and I have obtained many of the knives in which I need to prise open the shell and eat the reciently living contents, I want to sit for a while. I will find myself some releif work at various schools so I do not starve but I don't want to move into full time work yet. I have been, now, in the education system of this country for a full 17 years- I need a break. I am tired. Sleep in until 1pm tired. Tired, in fact, to my bones.
And as they teach you in school, bones are importaint. It is time to drink my metaphorical milk, bandage and sling the fractures that I haven't had time to give due care to reciently. Let the bones rest in me closet.
Hmmm.
Well, anyway, I now have a bit of time upon my hands. I want to go out and see some of those people I havent had much to do with reciently. I want to keep hold of the relationships that I have now, and I don't want to move much. Unfortunately, not all of these are complementary motives. I may, in fact, just have to get off my arse.
In other news: a man sould his soul on trade-me for $3001. Much of my brain power at the moment is going towards get rich quick schemes that can be propogated via the infinate potential of the internet, which, when you think about it, sells tons and tons of nothing much to tons and tons of people everyday. Some of my ideas are good. Many are bad.
FEAR! FEAR A FLAN WITH TIME UPON HIS HANDS! The Flan disaster meter has just been upgraded to mauve! Stay tuned to find out how high it climbs!
Anyway, I guess everyone has been wondering what I have been doing reciently, yes? Well, the list of acheivements is not a short one, but here is a quick overview of my activities:
- finished my last TE
- finished all the assignments that I needed to do to complete my teaching diploma. SHould be getting the certificate of well done ness in the mail sometime soonish
- began a relationship.
- was dumped
- began the relationship again
- have been dumped again.
- drank
- had a few parties
The above list is not in any particular order, but you get the picture. Or a picture. Of the kind that your 3yr old spawn comes home from kindergaten waving proudly and you put it on your fridge even though the colours were horribly chosen and the people have no knecks. Or head. In fact, it is a picture of three blobs with four sticks attached standing beside a square.
Well, what is past is past- won't do us any good to dwell on such matters will it?
Perhaps a more pertinent question: What will I do now?
Well, although it may seem that the world is now the mollosc of my choice and I have obtained many of the knives in which I need to prise open the shell and eat the reciently living contents, I want to sit for a while. I will find myself some releif work at various schools so I do not starve but I don't want to move into full time work yet. I have been, now, in the education system of this country for a full 17 years- I need a break. I am tired. Sleep in until 1pm tired. Tired, in fact, to my bones.
And as they teach you in school, bones are importaint. It is time to drink my metaphorical milk, bandage and sling the fractures that I haven't had time to give due care to reciently. Let the bones rest in me closet.
Hmmm.
Well, anyway, I now have a bit of time upon my hands. I want to go out and see some of those people I havent had much to do with reciently. I want to keep hold of the relationships that I have now, and I don't want to move much. Unfortunately, not all of these are complementary motives. I may, in fact, just have to get off my arse.
In other news: a man sould his soul on trade-me for $3001. Much of my brain power at the moment is going towards get rich quick schemes that can be propogated via the infinate potential of the internet, which, when you think about it, sells tons and tons of nothing much to tons and tons of people everyday. Some of my ideas are good. Many are bad.
FEAR! FEAR A FLAN WITH TIME UPON HIS HANDS! The Flan disaster meter has just been upgraded to mauve! Stay tuned to find out how high it climbs!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
