How's my driving?

.... WTF WHO LEFT PEE ON MY DESK

( :O )

It's mid-morning, and Greg's finally manuvered his way out of Vegas traffic from the lab. He parks, rescues his kit from the passenger seat, and takes the steps two at a time. For him, the Monday workday hasn't started yet -- he's only just finished Sunday, and he's still disgustingly energetic. He pauses at the door and squints up at the sunny ( Read more... )

( maaaaaaaaybe )

She is back! Thomas she requires a cake/pie, with a stripper (alive) inside. This seems like a baking feat of enormous proportion. CAN YOU HANDLE IT. Or like. We could always order one. This IS Vegas. Now I am getting mean cruel thoughts of requiring the stripper to dress in silly costumes. SUGGESTIONS? Maybe she could just eat cake off of a ( Read more... )

Oh god oh god oh god. Fuck shit arse feck. UNHAPPY FACE. Work ... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, guys! It's just -- well, I found a replacement. For about one day. It was a lot of work and then I was out in the field and the lab managed to scare Chaundra off in one day. ONE. DAY. And Nick and Warrick made BETS ABOUT IT. Love you too, guys. I don't know ( Read more... )

Your Love Element Is Metal
( Read more... )

people okay
I approve
and apparently can only express happiness through sentence fragments with random breaks.

- Greg's Gothic Interbutt poem of joy

- Nix-ashes or whatever: missing ( Read more... )