Severe Jam Damage

(Ab)normal service should be resumed shortly.

I’ve gotten some spam comments here and the ‘name’ of the user is ‘For god’s sake STOP GOING TO CATHOLIC CHURCH’ and the email address is ‘andstopyourparents’@iamspam.com.

yes chillins, it’s little ol’ me, sittin’ here in a freakin’ cold office werkin’ the day away.

No, I don’t know why I’m speaking like a cattle farmer from Wyoming either, or perhaps not Wyoming (do they have cattle farms there?) Anyway, you get my point - which is that I’m once again working on a Saturday.

As regards other stuff going on, a quick stocktake of my lifestyle situation reveals:
- I am still single and poor.
- My liver will most likely not last out the Christmas season if the last do (leaving drinks on Thursday) was anything to go by.
- I have managed to write 36,000 words for Nano, none of them are in any way workable at a later (editing) stage.
- I have forgotten how my camera works, or as good as seeing as I haven’t had a chance to get out with it in about 2 months.

Thrilling what?

Here’s a bunch of opening scenes for CSI: Miami edited together into one seven minute ‘Carusoism’.

My favourite so far is at about the 3.47 mark.
‘’No matter how you cut it the war sucks!’
‘Frank…. it’s a killer’

oh no wait a minute… it’s the last one…
‘We’re goin’ to Brazil!’

I haven’t been around much lately. Not because I’ve been out having a mad life or anything. I’ve been busy working… and working and working. I was working today as a matter of fact. My life seems to revolve around this bloody thing at the moment. If I’m not working, I’m eating or sleeping. Nano has gone out the window, I’ve managed 13000 words and I can’t remember writing them.

The black dog is panting at my shoulder.

Tonight I was supposed to be out and I was rather looking forward to being in the company of people who I do not work with \ am not related to. But I was told that the occasion was cancelled, which meant I tromped around Grafton St for a while trying to avoid the Minge Hilton and her entourage. Apparently she’s got a new fragrance in BT2. Avoiding the crowds of screaming slatterns sporting handycams and shielding my eyes from the ‘Best little Christmas Whorehouse’ windows in BT this year coupled with the cancelled plans thing put me in Very Bad Humour.

So now I’m sitting at home, typing away here, because as much as I moan and bitch and whine about people and profess myself to be a total mysanthropist, it is people who save me from myself. Too long in my own company and I start to go a bit barking.

Go out and have some fun with yer friends says you. But it’s not that simple.
The Barfly has abandoned me for his new piece of skirt and Priscilla is off touring the world. C-bear is living out in the wilds beyond the pale and Miss C is constantly studying and just about as busy in work as I am lately.

I am alone, bereft.

I need a beer.