No refunds! Consider your refund escaping this death trap with your lives!
I have to write something. Anything. Much like how I only clean when I can't stand looking at the mess I've made for myself, I must now blog because I can't stand looking at the fact that the last time I blogged laptops couldn't fit into manila business envelopes, I didn't own a new t-shirt that featured an iPod-toting character claiming that "iTune you out", and the governor of New York could legally see.
I have to confess. I've recently picked up a new bad habit. I am now the bane of gardeners worldwide; especially the one that tends the small patches of vegetation that line the path I take enroute to my job on Tuesdays and Thursdays (and sometimes on Wednesday, I have to also confess that I am a rebel). Whenever I am walking along that part of the Earth and see a dandelion, I feel a compulsive urge to kick it, sending its seed-carrying vehicles scurrying into the wind. If there is a bunch of them, I only kick one or two of them, partly to save the rest for the next time I happen by, and partly so that passing drivers don't notice me breaking unspoken horticultural moral codes. So the next time someone asks you if you know a terrorist, you can name me as one, even going into detail about how I bio-terrorize flora, spreading pestilence wherever I go. Dandelions are my anti-drug.
I have to end this entry. It is getting late and I must find out what happens to the happy-go-lucky crew aboard the Galactica. Though that will probably have to happen tomorrow. I might just ponder about when my next entry will be and its content, instead.
I have to confess. I've recently picked up a new bad habit. I am now the bane of gardeners worldwide; especially the one that tends the small patches of vegetation that line the path I take enroute to my job on Tuesdays and Thursdays (and sometimes on Wednesday, I have to also confess that I am a rebel). Whenever I am walking along that part of the Earth and see a dandelion, I feel a compulsive urge to kick it, sending its seed-carrying vehicles scurrying into the wind. If there is a bunch of them, I only kick one or two of them, partly to save the rest for the next time I happen by, and partly so that passing drivers don't notice me breaking unspoken horticultural moral codes. So the next time someone asks you if you know a terrorist, you can name me as one, even going into detail about how I bio-terrorize flora, spreading pestilence wherever I go. Dandelions are my anti-drug.
I have to end this entry. It is getting late and I must find out what happens to the happy-go-lucky crew aboard the Galactica. Though that will probably have to happen tomorrow. I might just ponder about when my next entry will be and its content, instead.