(no subject)
yep. mac daddy warms my bits as legs threaten to cramp up in soul sucking punishment. morning muffins hand baked by mr. folvig were enjoyed at a sunny flinders street station this morning, followed by directionless wandering through a very quiet city. i should fix my jeans. yes, jeans. they torn already. that's what you get for selling out. i should sleep. comedy festival job is sucking life at an alarming rate but was countered by semi-amusing free ticket to sam simmons - think sixto randomness vs. playschool. needed work.