(no subject)
I am still feeling less than spectacular following last night's evil triptan-munching branehate.
I have this feeling that taking triptans shouldn't result in feeling like my head is on fire.
Doubtless, some expert will disagree wildly with this...
...and put me on the worst pills I've previously tried out
[except the bit where they sent me home with pills of the once and future branehate)
Otherwise, things have been rather dull, especially with reference to "work" where the boss failed to turn up (through his own personal RL suckage) and there was naff all to do other than listen to some of my least charming co-volunteers.
And that is the height of the excitement, beyond frantically looking for a new, less "past it" handbag than the current model and that can take a camera and assorted sundries. Ended up with a very pink number and probably Rip Curl knock off from the indoor market. All the more upmarket (and this is Dover, it doesn't take much to manage "upmarket") were either satchels without any interior zips, mock-croc (I said it doesn't take much to manage upmarket and frankly when Peacock's counts as upmarket then your town needs a kick in the head) or made of such tactilely abominable fake leather that your reaction is just as you stuck your hand on the cooker (or some other foolish and unrepeatable act). And I do like some satchel-style bags, but would rather like deposit my belongings somewhere it takes more than a felonious hand to sneak under the flap and make merry with my mobile. Also, good luck on selling the mobile, felonious handed miscreant - it was top of the range in 2004. Ha!
I'm not sure how much of that made sense, but so it goes.
I have this feeling that taking triptans shouldn't result in feeling like my head is on fire.
Doubtless, some expert will disagree wildly with this...
...and put me on the worst pills I've previously tried out
[except the bit where they sent me home with pills of the once and future branehate)
Otherwise, things have been rather dull, especially with reference to "work" where the boss failed to turn up (through his own personal RL suckage) and there was naff all to do other than listen to some of my least charming co-volunteers.
And that is the height of the excitement, beyond frantically looking for a new, less "past it" handbag than the current model and that can take a camera and assorted sundries. Ended up with a very pink number and probably Rip Curl knock off from the indoor market. All the more upmarket (and this is Dover, it doesn't take much to manage "upmarket") were either satchels without any interior zips, mock-croc (I said it doesn't take much to manage upmarket and frankly when Peacock's counts as upmarket then your town needs a kick in the head) or made of such tactilely abominable fake leather that your reaction is just as you stuck your hand on the cooker (or some other foolish and unrepeatable act). And I do like some satchel-style bags, but would rather like deposit my belongings somewhere it takes more than a felonious hand to sneak under the flap and make merry with my mobile. Also, good luck on selling the mobile, felonious handed miscreant - it was top of the range in 2004. Ha!
I'm not sure how much of that made sense, but so it goes.