powered by SignMyGuestbook.com
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com
Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2003-05-28 - 1:11 p.m. No whistling Cough. Cough. Sniffle. Croak. Dammit! I�m getting sick. And it�s shaping up to be an annoying one � where you feel icky for days but not bad enough to just collapse. Why am I ill? I avoided the Lochmere plague monkeys (love you guys. Call when you�re healthy.) I didn�t camp in the deluge that plastered Sapphire Joust. I stayed in a warm bed and got a sufficient quality of both rest and fun this weekend. I, I, well, I am whining. Oh, there are tales to be told. Fun tales about: my coworkers and blue things; ripping fabric off Kyneburh�s body; Henry�s unexpected interest in lemon meringue pie; the rhinoceros that didn�t like tomatoes and other things that disturb Nikulai; how Gyrth makes me giggle; vexillogy past and present; Gen�s power to break fiber curses; Mel�s lack of excuse for Pittsburgh Steelers tortilla chips. And, yes Gen, that story about the brick, the horse and the goat. And how squirrels like Master John. But, again the twisted storytelling will have to wait, because I am ill and work is (frankly) insane. I worked Saturday. Roland worked Saturday. This week�s not looking any better. Hmmm. I am, apparently, whining again. Back to the salt mines. At least I�m better paid than Snow White�s dwarves. And I don�t have to whistle. Not that I could, cause my voice is rasping. Whoops. Again, whining. Oh! But on the side of good, we bought Eddie Izzard tickets today, a man (and I use the term loosely, cause he�s really an executive transvestite) whom Nia rates as there�s no amount of money I wouldn�t pay to see this man perform. � � � 
|